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CONTENTS. 



Idyls of the Kingj ,^gg 

Dedication 5 

Enid 8 

Vivien 71 

Elaine loo 

Guinevere , 150 

The Coming of Arthur 1 75 

Gareth and Lynette 191 

Pelleas and Ettarre 243 

Last Tournament 265 

The Passing of Arthur 292 



IDYLS OF THE KING 

"Flos Regum Arthurus." 

Joseph of Exeter. 

DEDICATION. 

These to His Memory — since he held them dear, 
Perchance as finding there unconsciously 
Some image of himself — I dedicate, 
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears — 
These Idyls. 

And indeed He seems to me 
Scarce other than my own ideal knight, 
" Who reverenced his conscience as his king ; 
iVhose glory was, redressing human wrong ; 
Who spake no slander, no, nor listened to it ; 
Who loved one only and who clave to her — " 
Her — over all whose realms to their last isle, 
Commingled with the gloom of imminent war, 
The shadow of His loss moved like eclipse, 
Darkening the world. We have lost him: h« is 

gone: 
We know him now : all narrow jealousies 
Are silent ; and we see him as he moved, 
How modest, kindly, all-accomplish'd, wise, 
S 



6 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

With what sublime repression of himself, 
And in what limits, and how tenderly ; 
Not swaying to this faction or to that ; 
Not making his high place the lawless perch 
Of wing'd ambitions, nor a vantage-ground 
For pleasure ; but thro' all this tract of years 
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, 
Before a thousand peering littlenesses, 
In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, 
And blackens every blot : for where is he. 
Who dares foreshadow for an only son 
A lovelier life, a more unstained, than his ? 
Or how should England dreaming of his sons 
Hope more for these than some inheritance 
Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine, 
Thou noble Father of her Kings to be. 
Laborious for her people and her poor — 
Voice in the rich dawn of an ampler day — 
Far-sighted summoner of War and Waste 
To fruitful strifes and rivalries of peace — 
Sweet nature gilded by the gracious gleam 
Of letters, dear to Science, dear to Art, 
Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince indeed, 
Beyond all titles, and a household name, 
Hereafter, thro' all times, Albert the Good. 

Break not , O woman's-heart, but still endure ; 
Break not, for thou art Royal, but endure, 
Remembering all the beauty of that star 
Which shone so close beside Thee, that ye made 
One light together, but has past and left 



DEDICA TION. 

The Crown of lonely splendor. 

May all love, 
His love, unseen but felt, overshadow Thee, 
The love of all Thy sons encompass Thee, 
The love of all Thy daughters cherish Th^e^ 
The love of all Thy people comfort Thee, 
Till God's love set Thee at his side again! 



ENID. 



The brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur's court, 
A tributary prince of Devon, one 
Of that great order of the Table Round, 
Had married Enid, Yniol's only child, 
And loved her, as he loved the light of Heaven. 
And as the light of Heaven varies, now 
At sunrise, now at sunset, now by night 
With moon and trembling stars, so loved Geraint 
To make her beauty vary day by day. 
In crimsons and in purples and in gems. 
And Enid, but to please her husband's eye, 
Who first had found and loved her in a state 
Of broken fortunes, daily fronted him 
In some fresh splendor ; and the Queen herself, 
Grateful to Prince Geraint for service done. 
Loved her, and often with her own white hands 
Array'd and deck'd her, as the loveliest. 
Next after her own self, in all the court. 
And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart 
Adored her, as the stateliest and the best 
And loveliest of all women upon earth. 
8 



ENID. 



And seeing them so tender and so close, 

Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint. 

But when a rumor rose about the Queen, 

Touching her guilty love for Lancelot, 

Tho' yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard 

The world's loud whisper breaking into storm, 

Not less Geraint believed it ; and there fell 

A horror on him, lest his gentle wife, 

Thro' that great tenderness to Guinevere, 

^ad sufFer'd, or should suffer any taint 

In nature : wherefore going to the king, 

He made this pretext, that his princedom lay 

Close on the borders of a territory, 

Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights, 

Assassins, and all flyers from the hand 

Ox Justice, and whatever loathes a law ; 

And therefore, till the king himself should please 

To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm, 

He craved a fair permission to depart. 

And there defend his marches ; and the king 

Mused for a little on his plea, but, last, 

Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode, 

And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores 

Of Severn, and they past to their own land ; 

Where, thinking, that if ever yet was wife 

True to her lord, mine shall be so to me. 

He compass'd her with sweet observances 

And worship, never leaving her, and grew 

Forgetful of his promise to the king. 

Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt, 

Forgetful of the tilt and tournament, 



10 IDYLS OF THE KING 

Forgetful of his glory and his name, 
Forgetful of his princedom and its cares. 
And this forgetfulness was hateful to her. 
And by and by the people, when they met 
In twos and threes, or fuller companies, 
Began to scoff and jeer and babble of him 
As of a prince whose manhood was all gone, 
And molten down in mere uxoriousness. 
And this she gathered from the people's eyes : 
This too the women who attired her head, 
To please her, dwelling on his boundless love, 
Told Enid, and they sadden'd her the more ; 
And day by day she thought to tell Geraint, 
But could not out of bashful delicacy ; 
While he that watch'd her sadden, was the more 
.Suspicious that her nature had a taint. 

At last, it chanced that on a summer morn 
t(They sleeping each by other) the new sun 
Beat thro' the blindless casement of the room, 
And heated the strong warrior in his dreams ; 
Who, moving, cast the coverlet aside, 
And bared the knotted column of his throat, 
The massive square of his heroic breast, 
And arms on which the standing muscle sloped. 
As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone, 
Running too vehemently to break upon it. 
And Enid woke and sat beside the couch, 
Admiring him, and thought within herself, 
Was ever man so grandly made as he? 
Then, like a shadow, past the people's talk 



it* 




Lady Lyonors. 



ENW. 11 

And accusation of uxoriousness 
Across her mind, and bowing over him, 
Low to her own heart piteously she said : 

" O noble breast and all-puissant arms. 
Am I the cause, I the poor cause that men 
Reproach you, saying all your force is gone? 
I am the cause because I dare not speak 
And tell him what I think and what they say. 
And yet I hate that he should linger here; 
1 cannot love my lord and not his name. 
Far liever had I gird his harness on him, 
And ride with him to battle and stand by, 
And watch his mightful hand striking great blows 
At caitiffs and at wrongers of the world. 
Far better were I laid in the dark earth, 
Not hearing any more his noble voice. 
Not to be folded more in these dear arms, 
And darkened from the high light in his eyes. 
Than that my lord thro' me should suffer shame. 
Am I so bold, and could I so stand by, 
And see my dear lord wounded in the strife, 
Or may be pierced to death before mine eyes, 
And yet not dare to tell him what I think. 
And how men slur him, saying all his force 
Is melted into mere effeminacy? 
O me, I fear that I am no true wife." 

Half inwardly, half audibly she spoke, 
And the strong passion in her made her weep 
True tears upon his broad and naked breast, 



12 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And these awoke him, and by great mischance 
He heard but fragments of her later words, 
And that she fear'd she was not a true wife. 
And then he thought, " In spite of all my care, 
For all my pains, poor man, for all my pains, 
She is not faithful to me, and I see her 
Weeping for some gay knight in Arthur's hall." 
Then tho' he loved and reverenced her too much 
To dream she could be guilty of foul act, 
Right thro' his manful breast darted the pang 
That makes a man, in the sweet face of her 
Whom he loves most, lonely and miserable. 
At this he hurl'd his huge limbs out of bed. 
And shook his drowsy squire awake and cried, 
*' My charger and her palfrey," then to her, 
" I will ride forth into the wilderness .; 
For tho' it seems my spurs are yet to win, 
I have not falPn so low as some would wish. 
And you, put on your worst and meanest dress 
And ride with me." And Enid ask'd, amazed, 
" If Enid errs, let Enid learn her fault." 
But he, '•' I charge you, ask not, but obey." 
Then she bethought her of a faded silk, 
A faded mantle and a faded veil, 
And moving toward a cedarn cabinet. 
Wherein she kept them folded reverently 
With sprigs of summer laid l^etween the folds. 
She took them, and array 'd herself therein, 
Remembering when first he came on her 
Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it, 
And all her foolish fears about the dress, 



ENID. 13 

And all his journey to her, as h'mself 

Had told her, and their coming to the court. 

For Arthur on the Whitsuntide before 
Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk. 
There on a day, he sitting high in hall. 
Before him came a forester of Dean, 
Wet from the woods, with notice of a hart 
Taller than all his fellows, milky-white. 
First seen that day : these things he told the king. 
Then the good king gave order to let blow 
His horns for hunting on the morrow morn. 
And when the Queen petitioned for his leave 
To see the hunt, allowed it easily. 
So with the morning all the court were gone. 
But Guinevere lay late into the morn. 
Lost in sweet dreams, and dreaming of her love 
For Lancelot, and forgetful of the hunt ; 
But rose at last, a single maiden with her. 
Took horse, and forded Usk, and gained the 

wood ; 
There, on a little knoll beside it, stay'd 
Waiting to hear the hounds ; but heard instead 
A sudden sound of hoofs, for Prince Geraint, 
Late also, wearing neither hunting-dress 
Nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand. 
Came quickly flashing thro' the shallow ford 
Behind them, and so gallop'd up the knoll. 
A purple scarf, at either end whereof 
There swung an apple of the purest gold, 
Sway'd round about him, as he galloped up 



14 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

To join them, glancing like a dragon-fly 

In summer suit and silks of holiday. 

Low bow'd the tributary Prince, and she, 

Sweetly and stateliiy, and with all grace 

Of womanhood and queenhood, answer'd him : 

" Late, late. Sir Prince," she said, " later than we ! '* 

" Yea, noble Queen," he answer'd, " and so late 

That I but come like you to see the hunt. 

Not join it." " Therefore wait with me," she 

said ; 
" For on this little knoll, if anywhere, 
There is good chance that we shall hear the 

hounds : 
Here often they break covert at our feet." 

And while they listened for the distant hunt, 
And chiefly for the baying of Cavall, 
King Arthur's hound of deepest mouth, there rode 
Full slowly by a knight, lady, and dwarf; 
Whereof the dwarf lagged latest, and the knight 
Had visor up, and show'd a youthful face, 
Imperious, and of haughtiest lineaments. 
And Guinevere, not mindful of his face 
In the king's hall, desired his name, and sent 
Her maiden to demand it of the dwarf; 
Who being vicious, old, and irritable. 
And doubling all his master's vice of pride, 
Made answer sharply that she should not know. 
" Then will I ask it of himself," she said. 
" Nay, by my faith, thou shalt not," cried the dwarf; 
" Thou art not worthy ev'n to speak of him " ; 



ENID. 15 

And when she put her horse toward the knight, 
Struck at her with his whip, and she returned 
Indignant to the Queen ; at which Geraint 
Exclaiming, " Surely I will learn the name," 
Made sharply to the dwarf, and ask'd it of him. 
Who answered as before ; and when the Prince 
Had put his horse in motion toward the knight. 
Struck at him with his whip, and cut his cheek. 
The Prince's blood spirted upon the scarf. 
Dyeing it : and his quick, instinctive hand 
Caught at the hilt, as to abolish him : 
But he, from his exceeding manfulness 
And pure nobility of temperament, 
Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, refrain'd 
From ev'n a word, and so returning said : 

" I will avenge this insult, noble Queen, 
Done in your maiden's person to yourself: 
And I will track this vermin to their earths : 
For tho' I ride unarmed, I do not doubt 
To find, at some place I shall come at, arms 
On loan, or else for pledge ; and, being found, 
Then will I fight him, and will break his pride, 
And on the third day will again be here, 
So that I be not fall'n in fight. Farewell." 

''Farewell, fair Prince," answered the stately 
Queen. 
" Be prosperous in this journey, as in all ; 
And may you light on all things that you love, 
And live to wed with her whom first you love : 



16 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

But ere you wed with any, bring your bride, 
And I, were she the daughter of a king, 
Yea, tho' she were a beggar from the hedge, 
Will clothe her for her bridals like the sun." 

And Prince Geraint, now thinking that he heard 
The noble hart at bay, now the far horn, 
A little vext at losing of the hunt, 
A little at the vile occasion, rode. 
By ups and downs, thro' many a grassy glade 
And valley, with fixt eye following the three. 
At last they issued from the world of wood. 
And climb'd upon a fair and even ridge. 
And show'd themselves against the sky, and sank. 
And thither came Geraint, and underneath 
Beheld the long street of a little town 
In a long valley, on one side of which, 
White from the mason's hand, a fortress rose ; 
And on one side a castle in decay. 
Beyond a bridge that spann'd a dry ravine : 
And out of town and valley came a noise 
As of a broad brook o'er a shingly bed 
Brawling, or like a clamor of the rooks 
At distance, e'er they settled for the night. 

And onward to the fortress rode the three, 
And enter'd, and were lost behind the walls. 
" So," thought Geraint, " I have track'd him to his 

earth." 
And down the long street riding wearily, 
Found every hostel full, and everywhere 



ENID, 17 

Was hammer laid to hoof, and the hot hiss 

And bustling whistle of the youth who scourVl 

His master's armor ; and of such a One 

He ask'd, " What means the tumult in the town?" 

Who told him, scouring still, "The sparrow-hawk!" 

Then riding close behind an ancient churl. 

Who, smitten by the dusty sloping beam, 

Went sweating underneath a sack of corn, 

Ask'd yet once more what meant the hubbub here? 

Who answered gruffly, "Ugh! the sparrow-hawk." 

Then riding further past an armorer''s. 

Who, with back turn'd, and bow'd above his work^ 

Sat riveting a helmet on his knee. 

He put the selfsame query, but the man 

Not turning round, nor looking at him, said : 

" Friend, he that labors for the sparrow-hawk 

Has little time for idle questioners." 

Whereat Geraint flash'd into sudden spleen : 

"A thousand pips eat up your sparrow-hawk! 

Tits, wrens, and all wing'd nothings peck him dead! 

Ye think the rustic cackle of your bourg 

The murmur of the world! What is it to me? 

O wretched set of sparrows, one and all. 

Who pipe of nothing but of sparrow-hawks ! 

Speak, if you be not like the rest, hawk-mad, 

Where can I get me harborage for the night ? 

And arras, arms^ arms to fight my enemy? Speak!" 

At this the armorer turning all amazed 

And seeing one so gay in purple silks. 

Came forward with the helmet yet in hand 

And answered, " Pardon me, O stranger knight ; 



18 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

We hold a tcurney here to-morrow morn, 
And there is scantly time for half the work. 
Arms ? truth ! I know not : all are wanted here, 
Harborage? truth, good truth, I know not, save, 
It may be, at Earl YnioPs, o'er the bridge 
Yonder." He spoke and fell to work again. 

Then rode Geraint, a littic spleenful yet. 
Across the bridge that spanned the dry ravine. 
There musing sat the hoary-headed Earl, 
(His dress a suit of fray'd magnificence, 
Once fit for feasts of ceremony) and said : 
'•Whither, fair son?" to whom Geraint replied, 
'' O friend, I seek a harborage for the night." 
Then Yniol, "Enter therefore and partake 
The slender entertainment of a house 
Once rich, now poor, but ever open-door'd." 
*' Thanks, venerable friend," replied Geraint ; 
" So that you do not serve me sparrow-hawks 
For supper, I will enter, I will eat 
With all the passion of a twelve hours' fast." 
Then sigh'd and smiled the hoary-headed Earl, 
And answer'd " Graver cause than yours is mine 
To curse this hedgerow thief, the sparrow-hawk : 
But in, go in ; for, save yourself desire it. 
We will not touch upon him ev'n in jest." 

Then rode Geraint into the castle court, 
His charger trampling many a prickly star 
Of sprouted thistle on the broken stones. 
He looked and saw tliat all was ruinous. 
Here stood a shattered archway plumed with fern ; 




And lioiior'd most, Sir Lancelot, to ride forth 
And bring the Queen." 



ENiD. 19 

And here had falPn a great part of a tower, 
Whole, like a crag that tumbles from the cliff, 
And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers : 
And high above a piece of turret stair, 
Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound 
Bare to the sun, and monstrous ivy-stems 
Claspt the gray walls with hairy-fibred arms, 
And suck'd the joining of the stones, and look'd 
A knot, beneath, of snakes, aloft, a grove. 

And while he w^aited in the castle court, 
The voice of Enid, YnioPs daughter, rang 
Clear thro' the open casement of the Hall, 
Singing ; and as the sweet voice of a bird, 
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle, 
Moves him to think what kind of bird it is 
That sings so delicately clear, and make 
Conjecture of the plumage and the form ; 
So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint ; 
And made him like a man abroad at morn 
When first the liquid note beloved of men 
Comes flying over many a windy wave 
To Britain, and in April suddenly 
Breaks from a coppice gemm'd with green and red, 
And he suspends his converse with a friend. 
Or it may be the labor of his hands. 
To think or say, " there is the nightingale " ; 
So fared it with Geraint, who thought and said, 
" Here, by God's grace, is the one voice for me." 

It chanced the song that Enid sang was one 
Of Fortune and her wheel, and Enid sang : 



20 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

^'Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the 

proud ; 
Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and 

cloud ; 
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 

" Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or 
frown ; 
With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; 
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. 

" Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands ; 
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands ; 
For man is man and master of his fate. 

" Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ; 
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud ; 
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate." 

" Hark, by the bird's song you may learn the 
nest," 
Said Yniol ; " Enter quickly." Entering then, 
Right o'er a mount of newly-fallen stones, 
The dusky-rafter'd many-cobweb'd Hall, 
He found an ancient dame in dim brocade ; 
And near her, like a blossom vermeil- white, 
That lightly breaks a faded flower-sheath, 
Moved the fair Enid, all in faded silk, 
Her daughter. In a moment thought Geraint, 
" Here by God's rood is the one maid for me." 
But none spake word except the hoary Earl : 
" Enid, the good knight's horse stands in the court ; 
Take him to stall, and give him corn, and then 



ENID. 21 

Go to the town and buy us flesh and wine ; 
And we will make us merry as we may. 
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great." 

He spake : the Prince, as Enid past him, fain 
To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol caught 
His purple scarf, and held, and said " Forbear! 
Rest! the good house, tho' ruin'd, O my Son, 
Endures not that her guest should serve himself." 
And reverencing the custom of the house 
Geraint, from utter courtesy, forebore. 

So Enid took his charger to the stall ; 
And after went her way across the bridge, 
And reach'd the town, and while the Prince and 

Earl 
Yet spoke together, came again with one, 
A youth, that following with a costrel bore 
The means of goodly welcome, flesh and wine. 
And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them cheer. 
And in her veil enfolded, manchet bread. 
And then, because their hall must also serve 
For kitchen, boil'd the flesh, and spread the board. 
And stood behind, and waited on the three. 
And seeing her so sweet and serviceable, 
Geraint had longing in him evermore 
To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb, 
That crost the trencher as she laid it down : 
But after all had eaten, then Geraint, 
For now the wine made summer in his veins, 
Let his eye rove in following, or rest 



22 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

On Enid at her lowly handmaid-work, 
Now here, now there, about the dusky hall ; 
Then suddenly addrest the hoary Earl : 

" Fair Host and Earl, I pray your courtesy ; 
This sparrow-hawk, what is he, tell me of him. 
His name ? but no, good faith, I will not have it : 
For if he be the knight whom late I saw 
Ride into that new fortress by your town, 
White from the mason's hand, then have I sworn 
From his own lips to have it — I am Geraint 
Of Devon — for this morning when the Queen 
Sent her own maiden to demand the name. 
His dwarf, a vicious under-shapen thing. 
Struck at her with his whip, and she return'd 
Indignant to the Queen ; and then I swore 
That I would track this caitiff to his hold, 
And fight and break his pride, and have it of him- 
And all unarmed I rode, and thought to find 
Arms in your town, where all the men are mad ; 
They take the rustic murmur of their bourg 
For the great wave that echoes round the world ; 
They would not hear me speak : but if you know 
Where I can light on arms, or if yourself 
Should have them, tell me, seeing I have sworn 
That I will break his pride and learn his name, 
Avenging this great insult done the Queen." 

Then cried Earl Yniol : " Art thou he indeed, 
Geraint, a name far-sounded among men 
For noble deeds? and truly I, when first 



ENID, ». 

I saw you moving by me on the bridge, 

Felt you were somewhat, yea and by your state 

And presence might have guess'd you one of those 

That eat in Arthur's hall at Camelot. 

Nor speak I now from foolish flattery ; 

For this dear child hath often heard me praise 

Your feats of arms, and often when I paused 

Hath ask'd again, and ever loved to hear ; 

So grateful is the noise of noble deeds 

To noble hearts who see but acts of wrong : 

never yet had woman such a pair 

Of suitors as this maiden : first Limours, 
A creature wholly given to brawls and wine, 
Drunk even when he woo'd ; and be he dead 

1 know not, but he past to the wild land. 
The second was your foe, the sparrow-hawk, 
My curse, my nephew, — I will not let his name 
Slip from my lips if I can help it — he. 

When I that knew him fierce and turbulent 

Refused her to him, then his pride awoke ; 

And since the proud man often is the mean, 

He sow'd a slander in the common ear, 

Affirming that his father left him gold, 

And in my charge, which was not rendered to him'- 

Bribed with large promises the men who served 

About my person, the more easily 

Because my means were somewhat broken into 

Thro' open doors and hospitality ; 

Raised my own town against me in the night 

Before my Enid's birthday, sack'd my house ; 

From mine own earldom foully ousted me ; 



24 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Built that new fort to overawe my friends, 
For truly there are those who love me yet ; 
And keeps me in this ruinous castle here, 
Where doubtless he would put me soon to death, 
But that his pride too much despises me : 
And I myself sometimes despise myself; 
For I have let men be, and have their way ; 
And much too gentle, have not used my power ; 
Nor know I whether I be very base 
Or very manful, whether very wise 
Or very foolish ; only this I know. 
That whatsoever evil happen to me, 
I seem to suffer nothing heart or limb. 
But can endure it all most patiently." 

"Well said, true heart,'' replied Geraint, "but 
arms : 
That if, as I suppose, your nephew fights 
In next day's tourney I may break his pride." 

And Yniol answer'd : " Arms, indeed, but old 
And rusty, old and rusty. Prince Geraint, 
Are mine, and therefore at your asking, yours, 
But in this tournament can no man tilt. 
Except the lady he loves best be there. 
Two forks are fixt into the meadow ground. 
And over these is laid a silver wand, 
And over that is placed the sparrow-hawk, 
The prize of beauty for the fairest there. 
And this, what knight soever be in field 
Lays claim to for the lady at his side. 



ENID. 25 

And tilts with my good nephew thereupon, 

Who being apt at arms and big of bone 

Has ever won it for the lady with him, 

And toppling over all antagonism 

Has earn'd himself the name of sparrow-hawk. 

But you, that have no lady, cannot fight." 

To whom Geraint with eyes all bright replied, 
Leaning a little toward him, " Your leave! 
Let 7ne lay lance in rest, O noble host. 
For this dear child, because I never saw, 
Tho' having seen all beauties of our time, 
Nor can see elsewhere, anything so fair. 
And if I fall her name will yet remain 
Untarnished as before ; but if I live, 
So aid me Heaven when at mine uttermost, 
As I will make her truly my true wife." 

Then, howsoever patient. YnioFs heart 
Danced in his bosom, seeing better days. 
And looking round he saw not Enid there, 
(Who hearing her own name had slipt away) 
But that old dame, to whom full tenderly 
And fondling all her hand in his he said, 
'• Mother, a maiden is a tender thing, 
And best by her that bore her understood. 
Go thou to rest, but ere thou go to rest 
Tell her, and prove her heart toward the Prince." 

So spake the kindly-hearted Earl, and she 
With frequent smile and nod departing found, 
Half disarray'd as to her rest, the girl ; 



2o IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Whom first she kiss'd on either cheek, and then 
On either shining shoulder laid a hand, 
And kept her off and gazed upon her face, 
And told her all their converse in the hall, 
Proving her heart : but never light and shade 
Coursed one another more on open ground 
Beneath a troubled heaven, than red and pale 
Across the face of Enid hearing her; 
While slowly falling q,s a scale that falls. 
When weight is added only grain by grain. 
Sank her sweet head upon her gentle breast \ 
Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word, 
Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it ; 
So moving without answer to her rest 
She found no rest, and ever faiPd to draw 
The quiet night into her blood, but lay 
Contemplating her own unworthiness ; 
And when the pale and bloodless east began 
To quicken to the sun, arose, and raised 
Her mother too, and hand in hand they moved 
Down to the meadow where the jousts were held^ 
And waited there for Yniol and Geraint. 

And thither came the twain, and when Geraint 
Beheld her first in field, awaiting him. 
He felt, were she the prize of bodily force. 
Himself beyond the rest pushing could move 
The chair of Idris. YnioPs rusted arms 
Were on his princely person, but thro' these 
Princelike his bearing shone ; and errant knights 
And ladies came, and by and by the town 



ElvID. 27 

Flow'd in, and settling circled all the lists. 
And there they fixt the forks into the ground, 
And over these they placed a silver wand, 
And over that a golden sparrow-hawk. 
Then Yniol's nephew, after trumpet blown, 
Spake to the lady with him and proclaimed, 
" Advance and take as fairest of the fair. 
For I these two years past have won it for thee, 
The prize of beauty.'' Loudly spake the Prince, 
" Forbear : their is a worthier," and the knight 
With some surprise and thrice as much disdain 
Turn'd, and beheld the four, and all his face 
Glow'd like the heart of a great fire at Yule, 
So burnt he was with passion, crying out, 
" Do battle for it then," no more ; and thrice 
They clash'd together, and thrice they brake their 

spears. 
Then each, dishorsed and drawing, lash'd at each 
So often and with such blows, that all the crowd 
Wonder'd, and now and then from distant walls 
There came a clapping as of phantom hands. 
So twice they fought, and twice they breathed, and 

still 
The dew of their great labor, and the blood 
Of their strong bodies, flowing, drain'd their force. 
But cither's force was matched till Yniol's cry, 
*' Remember that great insult done the Queen," 
Increased Geraint's, who heaved his blade aloft, 
And crack'd the helmet thro', and bit the bone. 
And fell'd him, and set foot upon his breast. 
And said, " Thy name? " To whom the fallen man 



28 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Made answer, groaning, " Edyrn, son of Nudd! 

Ashamed am I that I should tell it thee. 

My pride is broken : men have seen my fall." 

" Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd," replied Geraint, 

" These two things shalt thou do, or else thou diest. 

First, thou thyself, thy lady, and thy dwarf, 

Shalt ride to Arthur's court, and being there. 

Crave pardon for that insult done the Queen, 

And shalt abide her judgment on it ; next. 

Thou shalt give back their earldom to thy kin. 

These two things shalt thou do, or thou shalt die." 

And Edyrn answered, " These things will I do, 

For I have never yet been overthrown, 

And thou hast overthrown me, and my pride 

Is broken down, for Enid sees my fall ! " 

And rising up, he rode to Arthur's court, 

And there the Queen forgave him easily. 

And being young, he changed himself, and grew 

To hate the sin that seem'd so like his own 

Of Modred, Arthur's nephew, and fell at last 

In the great battle fighting for the king. 

But when the third day from the hunting-morn 
Made a low splendor in the world, and wings 
Moved in her ivy, Enid, for she lay 
With her fair head in the dim-yellow light, 
Among the dancing shadows of the birds. 
Woke and bethought her of her promise given 
No later than last eve to Prince Geraint — 
So bent he seem'd on going the third day, 
He would not leave her, till her promise given — 



ENID. 29 

To ride with him this morning to the court, 

And there be made known to the stately Queen, 

And there be wedded with all ceremony. 

At this she cast her eyes upon her dress, 

And thought it never yet had look'd ",o mean. 

For as a leaf in mid-November is 

To what it was in mid-October, seem'd 

The dress that now she lookM on to the dress 

She lookM on ere the coming of Geraint. 

And still she looked, and still the terror grew 

Of that strange bright and dreadful thing, a court. 

All staring at her in her faded silk : 

And softly to her own sweet heart she said : 

" This noble Prince who won our earldom back, 
So splendid in his acts and his attire. 
Sweet heaven, how much I shall discredit him ! 
Would he could tarry with us here awhile ! 
But being so beholden to the Prince, 
It were but little grace in any of us, 
Bent as he seem'd on going this third day, 
To seek a second favor at his hands. 
Yet if he could but tarry a day or two, 
Myself would work eye dim, and finger lame, 
Far liefer than so much discredit him." 

And Enid fell in longing for a dress 
All branched and flowered with gold, a costly gift 
Of her good mother, given her on the night 
Before her birthday, three sad years ago. 
That night of fire, when Edyrn sack'd their house;,, 



30 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And scatter'd all they had to all the winds : 

For while the mother show'd it, and the two 

Were turning and admiring it, the work 

To both appeared so costly, rose a cry 

That Edyrn's men were on them, and they fled 

With little save the jewels they had on. 

Which being sold and sold had bought them bread : 

And Edyrn's men had caught them in their flight, 

And placed them in this ruin ; and she wish'd 

The Prince had found her in her ancient home ; 

Then let her fancy flit across the past, 

And roam the goodly places that she knew ; 

And last bethought her how she used to watch, 

Near that old home, a pool of golden carp ; 

And one was patched and blurr'd and lustreless 

Among his burnish'd brethren of the pool ; 

And half asleep she made comparison 

Of that and these to her own faded self 

And the gay court, and fell asleep again ; 

And dreamt herself was such a faded form 

Among her burnish'd sisters of the pool ; 

But this was in the garden of a king : 

And tho' she lay dark in the pool, she knew 

That all was bright ; that all about were birds 

Of sunny plume in gilded trellis-work ; 

That all the turf was rich in plots that looked 

Each like a garnet or a turkis in it ; 

And lords and ladies of the high court went 

In silver tissue talking things of state ; 

And children of the king in cloth of gold 

Glanced at the doors or gamboPd down the walks ; 



ENID. 31 

And while she thought " they will not see me," came 

A stately queen whose name was Guinevere, 

And all the children in their cloth of gold 

Ran to her, crying, " If we have fish at all 

Let them be gold ; and charge the gardeners now 

To pick the faded creature from the pool, 

And cast it on the mixen that it die.'" 

And therewithal one came and seized on her, 

And Enid started waking, with her heart 

All overshadow^ by the foolish dream. 

And lo! it was her mother grasping her 

To get her well awake ; and in her hand 

A suit of bright apparel, which she laid 

Flat on the couch, and spoke exultingly : 

" See here, my child, how fresh the colors look, 
How fast they hold, like colors of a shell 
That keeps the wear and polish of the wave. 
Why not ? it never yet was worn, I trow : 
Look on it, child, and tell me if you know it." 

And Enid look'd, but all confused at first, 
Could scarce divide it from her foolish dream : 
Then suddenly she knew it and rejoiced, 
And answered, " Yea, I know it ; your good gift, 
So sadly lost on that unhappy night ; 
Your own good gift ! " " Yea, syrely," said the dame, 
" And gladly given again this happy morn. 
For when the jousts were ended yesterday. 
Went Yniol thro'' the town, and everywhere 
He found the sack and plunder of our house 



32 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

All scattered thro' the houses of the town ; 

And gave command that all which once was 

ours, 
Should now be ours again : and yester-eve, 
While you were talking sweetly with your Prince, 
Came one with this and laid it in my hand, 
For love or fear, or seeking favor of us, 
Because we have our earldom back again. 
And yester-eve I would not tell you of it, 
But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn. 
Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise ? 
For I myself unwillingly have worn 
My faded suit, as you, my child, have yours, 
And howsoever patient, Yniol his. 
Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house. 
With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare. 
And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal, 
And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all 
That appertains to noble maintenance. 
Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house ; 
But since our fortune slipt from sun to shade, 
And all thro' that young traitor, cruel need 
Constrained us, but a better time has come ; 
So clothe yourself in this, that better fits 
Our mended fortunes and a Prince's bride : 
For tho' you won the prize of fairest fair, 
And tho' I heard him call you fairest fair. 
Let never maiden think, however fair, 
She is not fairer in new clothes than old. 
And should some great court-lady say, the Prince 
Hath picked a ragged-robbin from the hedge, 



ENID. 33 

And like a madman brought her to the court, 
Then were you shamed, and, worse, might shame 

the Prince 
To whom we are beholden ; but I know, 
When my dear child is set forth at her best, 
That neither court nor country, tho' they sought 
Thro' all the provinces like those of old 
That lighted on Queen Esther, has her match." 

Here ceased the kindly mother out of breath ; 
And Enid listened brightening as she lay; 
Then, as the white and glittering star of morn 
Parts from a bank of snow, and by and by 
Slips into golden cloud, the maiden rose. 
And left her maiden couch, and robed herself, 
Helped by the mother's careful hand and eye, 
Without a mirror, in the gorgeous gown ; 
Who, after, turn'd her daughter round, and said, 
She never yet had seen her half so fair ; 
And caird her like that maiden in the tale. 
Whom Gwydion made by glamour out of flowers, 
And sweeter than the bride of Cassivelaun, 
Flur, for whose love the Roman C^sar first 
Invaded Britain, but we beat him back, 
As this great Prince invaded us, and we. 
Not beat him back, but welcomed him with joy. 
And I can scarcely ride with you to court. 
For old am I, and rough the ways and wild ; 
But Yniol goes, and I full oft shall dream 
I see my princess as I see her now, 
Clothed with my gift, and gay among the gay. 



34 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

But while the women thus rejoiced, Geraint 
Woke where he slept in the high hall, and call'd 
For Enid, and when Yniol made report 
Of that good mother making Enid gay 
In such apparel as might well beseem 
His princess, or indeed the stately queen, 
He answer'd, " Earl, entreat her by my love, 
Albeit I give no reason but my wish, 
That she ride with me in her faded silk." 
Yniol with that hard message went ; it fell, 
Like flaws in summer laying lusty corn : 
For Enid, all abash'd, sho knew not why. 
Dared not to glance at her good mother's face,. 
But silently, in all obedience, 
Her mother silent too, nor helping her. 
Laid from her limbs the costly-broider'd gift. 
And robed them in her ancient suit again, 
And so descended. Never man rejoiced 
More than Geraint to greet her thus attired ; 
And glancing all at once as keenly at her, 
As careful robins eye the delver's toil, 
Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall, 
But rested with her sweet face satisfied ; 
Then seeing cloud upon the mother's brow, 
rier by both hands he caught, and sweetly said." 

" O my new mother, be not wroth or grieved 
At your new son, for my petition to her. 
When late I left Caerleon, our great Queen, 
In words whose echo lasts, they were so sweet,. 
Made promise, that whatever bride I brought, 



ENID. 35 

Herself would clothe her like the sun in Heaven. 

Thereafter, when I reached this ruin'd hold, 

Beholding one so bright in dark estate, 

I vow'd that could I gain her, our kind Queen, 

No hand but hers, should make your Enid burst 

Sunlike from cloud — and likewise thought perhaps, 

That service done so graciously would bind 

The two together ; for I wish the two 

To love each other : how should Enid find 

A nobler friend? Another thought I had; 

I came among you here so suddenly. 

That tho^ her gentle presence at the lists 

Might well have served for proof that I was loved, 

I doubted whether filial tenderness, 

Or easy nature, did not let itself 

Be moulded by your wishes for her weal ; 

Or whether some false sense in her own self 

Of my contrasting brightness, overbore 

Her fancy dwelling in this dusky hall ; 

And such a sense might make her long for court 

And all its dangerous glories : and I thought, 

That could I someway prove such force in her 

Link'd with such love for me, that at a word 

(No reason given her) she could cast aside 

A splendor dear to women, new to her. 

And therefore dearer ; or if not so new. 

Yet therefore tenfold dearer by the power 

Of intermitied custom ; then I felt 

That I could rest, a rock in ebbs and flowS; 

Fixt on her faith. Now, therefore, I do rest, 

A prophet certain of my prophecy. 



36 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

That never shadow of mistrust can cross 
Between us. Grant me pardon for my thoughts: 
And for my strange petition I will make 
Amends hereafter by some gaudy-day, 
When your fair child shall wear your costly gift 
Beside your own warm hearth, with, on her knees, 
Who knows? another gift of the high God, 
Which, maybe, shall have learned to lisp you 
thanks." 

He spoke : the mother smiled, but half in tears, 
Then brought a mantle down and wrapt her in it, 
And claspt and kissM her, and they rode away. 

Now thrice that morning Guinevere had climb'd 
The giant tower, from whose high crest, they say, 
Men saw the goodly hills of Somerset, 
And white sails flying on the yellow sea ; 
But not to goodly hill or yellow sea 
LookM the fair Queen, but up the vale of Usk, 
By the flat meadow, till she saw them come ; 
And then descending met them at the gates, 
Embraced her with all welcome as a friend, 
And did her honor as the Prince's bride. 
And clothed her for her bridals like the sun ; 
And all that week w^as old Caerleon gay, 
i or by the hands of Dubric, the high saint. 
They twain were wedded with all ceremony. 

And this was on the last year's Whitsuntide. 
But Enid ever kept the faded silk. 
Remembering hr>"' first he came on her, 



ENID. y, 

Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it, 
And all the foolish fears about the dress, 
And all his journey toward her, as himself 
Had told her, and their coming to the court. 

And now this morning when he said to her, 
'' Put on your worst and meanest dress," she found 
And took it, and arrayed herself therein. 

O purblind race of miserable men. 
How many among us at this very hour 
Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves, 
By taking true for false, or false for true ; 
Here, thro' the feeble twilight of this world 
Groping, how many, until we pass and reach 
That other, where we see as we are seen! 

So fared it with Geraint, who issuing forth 
That morning, when they both had got to horse, 
Perhaps because he loved her passionately. 
And felt that tempest brooding round his heart, 
Which, if he spoke at all, would break perforce 
Upon a head so dear in thunder, said : 
*' Not at my side! I charge you ride before, 
Ever a good way on before ; and this 
I charge you, on your duty as a wife. 
Whatever happens, not to speak to me. 
No, not a word! " and Enid was aghast ; 
And forth they rode, but scarce three paces on, 
When crying out, " Effeminate as I am, 
I will not fight my way with gilded arms, 



38 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

All shall be iron " ; he loosed a mighty purse, 

Hung at his belt, and hurPd it toward the squire. 

So the last sight that Enid had of home 

Was all the marble threshold flashing, strown 

With gold and scatterd coinage, and the squire 

Chafing his shoulder : then he cried again, 

" To the wilds ! " and Enid leading down the tracks 

Thro' which he bade her lead him on, they past 

The marches, and by bandit-haunted holds, 

Gray swamps and pools, waste places of the hern. 

And wildernesses, perilous paths, they rode : 

Round was their pace at first, but slackened soon : 

A stranger meeting them had surely thought. 

They rode so slowly and they look'd so pale, 

That each had sufferM some exceeding wrong. 

For he was ever saying to himself, 

"01 that wasted time to tend upon her. 

To compass her with sweet observances, 

10 dress her beautifully and keep her true " — 

And there he broke the sentence in his heart 

Abruptly, as a man upon his tongue 

May break it, when his passion masters him. 

And she was ever praying the sweet heavens 

To save her dear lord whole from any wound. 

And ever in her mind she cast about 

For that unnoticed failing in herself, 

Which made him look so cloudy and so cold ; 

Till the great plover's human whistle amazed 

Her heart, and glancing round the waste she fear'd 

In every wavering brake an ambuscade. 

Then thought again ^' If there be such in me, 



ENID. 39 

I might amend it by the grace of heaven, 
If he would only speak and tell me of it." 

But when the fourth part of the day was gone, 
Then Enid was aware of three tall knights 
On horseback, wholly arm'd, behind a rock 
In shadow, waiting for them, caitiffs all ; 
And heard one crying to his fellow, " Look, 
Here comes a laggard hanging down his head, 
Who seems no bolder than a beaten hound ; 
Come, we will slay him and will have his horse 
And armor, and his damsel shall be ours." 

Then Enid ponder'd in her heart, and said: 
^- 1 will go back a little to my lord. 
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk ; 
For, be he wroth even to slaying me, 
Far liever by his dear hand had I die. 
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame." 

Then she went back some paces of return, 
Met his full frown timidly firm, and said : 
" My lord, I saw three bandits by the rock 
Waiting to fall on you, and heard them boast 
That they would slay you, and possess your horse 
And armor, and your damsel should be theirs." 

He made a wrathful answer. " Did I wish 
Your warning or your silence? one command 
I laid upon you, not to speak to me, 
And thus you keep it ! Well then, look — for new. 
Whether you wish me victory or defeat. 



40 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Long for my life, or hunger for my death, 
Yourself shall see my vigor is not lost." 

Then Enid waited pale and sorrowful. 
And down upon him bare the bandit three. 
And at the midmost charging, Prince Geraint 
Drave the long spear a cubit thro' his breast 
And out beyond ; and then against his brace 
Of comrades, each of whom had broken on him 
A lance that splintered like an icicle, 
Swung from his brand a windy buffet out 
Once, twice, to right, to left, and stunn'd the twain 
Or slew them, and dismounting like a man 
That skins the wild beast after slaying him, 
Stript from the three dead wolves of woman born 
The three gay suits of armor which they wore, 
And let the bodies lie, but bound the suits 
Of armor on their horses, each on each, 
And tied the bridle-reins of all the three 
Together, and said to her, " drive them on 
Before you " ; and she drove them thro' the waste. 

He followed nearer : ruth began to work 
Against his anger in him, while he watch'd 
The being he loved best in all the world, 
With difficulty in mild obedience 
Driving them on : he fain had spoken to her, 
And loosed in words of sudden fire the wrath 
And smoulder'd wrong that burnt him all within ; 
But evermore it seem'd an easier thing 
At once without remorse to strike her dead, 



ENID. 41 

Than to cry " Halt," and to her own bright face 
Accuse her of the least immodesty: 
And thus tongue-tied, it made him wroth the more 
That she could speak whom his own ear had 

heard 
Call herself false : and suffering thus he made 
Minutes an age : but in scarce longer time 
Than at Caerleon the full-tided Usk, 
Before he turn to fall seaward again, 
Pauses, did Enid, keeping watch, behold 
In the first shallow shade of a deep wood, 
Before a gloom of stubborn-shafted oaks. 
Three other horsemen waiting, wholly arm'd, 
Whereof one seem'd far larger than her lord, 
And shook her pulses, crying, " Look, a prize! 
Three horses and three goodly suits of arms, 
And all in charge of whom? a girl : set on/' 
" Nay," said the second, " yonder comes a knight." 
The third, " A craven! how he hangs his head." 
The giant answerM merrily, " Yea, but one ? 
Wait here, and when he passes fall upon him." 

And Enid ponder'd in her heart and said, 
" I will abide the coming of my lord, 
And I will tell him all their villany. 
My lord is weary with the fight before, 
And they will fall upon him unawares. 
I needs must disobey him for his good ; 
How should I dare obey him to his harm? 
Needs must I speak, and tho' he kill me for it, 
I save a life dearer to me than mine." 



42 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And she abode his coming, and said to him 
With timid firmness, " Have I leave to speak? " 
He said, " you take it, speaking," and she spoke. 

" There lurk three villains yonder in the woou, 
And each of them is wholly arm'd, and one 
Is larger limbM than you are, and they say 
That they will fall upon you while you pass." 

To which he flung a wrathful answer back : 
^' And if there were an hundred in tne wood, 
And every man were larger-limbM than I, 
And all at once should sally out upon me, 
I swear it would not ruffle me so much 
As you that not obey me. Stand aside, 
And if I fall, cleave to the better man." 

And Enid stood aside to wait the event, 
Not dare to watch the combat, only breathe 
Short fits of prayer, at every stroke a breath. 
And he, she dreaded most, bare down upon him. 
Aim'd at the helm, his lance err'd ; but Geraint's, 
A little in the late encounter strain'd. 
Struck thro^ the bulky bandifs corselet home, 
And then brake short, and down his enemy roll'd 
And there lay still ; as he that tells the tale, 
Saw once a great piece of a promontory, 
That had a sapling growing on it, slip 
From the long shore-cliff's windy walls to the beach, 
And there lie still, and yet the sapling grew : 
So lay the man transfixt. His craven ;viir 



ENID, 43 

Of comrades, making slowlier at the Prince, 
When now they saw their bulwark fallen, stood ; 
On whom the victor, to confound them more, 
Spurred with his terrible war-cry ; for as one, 
That listens near a torrent mountain brook. 
All thro' the crash of the near cataract hears 
The drumming thunder of the huger fall 
At distance, were the soldiers wont to hear 
His voice in battle, and be kindled by it. 
And foemen scared, like that false pair who turn'd 
Flying, but, overtaken, died the death 
Themselves had wrought on many an innocent. 

Thereon Geraint, dismounting, pick'd the lance 
That pleased him best, and drew from those dead 

wolves 
Their three gay suits of armor, each from each, 
And bound them on their horses, each on each, 
And tied the bridle-reins of all the three 
Together, and said to her, " Drive them on 
Before you," and she drove them thro' the wood. 

He follow'd nearer still : the pain she had 
To keep them in the wild ways of the wood, 
Two sets of three laden with jingling arms. 
Together, served a little to disedge 
The sharpness of that pain about her heart : 
And they themselves, like creatures gently born 
But into bad hands falPn, and now so long 
By bandits groom'd, prick'd their light ears, and felt 
Her low firm voice and tender government. 



44 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

So thro' the green gloom of the wood they past, 
And issuing under open heavens beheld 
A little town with towers, upon a rock, 
And close beneath, a meadow gemlike chased 
In the brown wild, and mowers mowing in it : 
And down a rocky pathway from the place 
There came a fair-hairM youth, that in his hand 
Bare victual for the mowers : and Geraint 
Had ruth again on Enid looking pale : 
Then, moving downward to the meadow ground, 
He, when the fair-hair'd youth came by him, said, 
"Friend, let her eat ; the damsel is so faint." 
" Yea, willingly," replied the youth : " and you, 
My lord, eat also, tho' the fair is coarse, 
And only meet for mowers " ; then set down 
His basket, and dismounting on the sward 
They let the horses graze, and ate themselves. 
And Enid took a little delicately, 
Less having stomach for it than desire 
To close with her lord's pleasure ; but Geraint 
Ate all the mowers' victual unawares, 
And when he found all empty, was amazed : 
And " Boy," said he, " I have eaten all, but take 
A horse and arms for guerdon ; choose the best." 
He, reddening in extremity of delight, 
"My lord, you overpay me fifty fold." 
"You will be all the wealthier," cried the Prince. 
" I take it as free gift, then," said the boy, 
" Not guerdon ; for myself can easily. 
While your good damsel rests, return, and fetch 
Fresh victual for these mowers of our Earl ; 



ENID. 45 

]i or these are his, and all the field is his, 
And I myself am his ; and I will tell him 
How great a man you are : he loves to know 
When men of mark are in his territory : 
And he will have you to his palace here, 
And serve you costlier than with mowers' fare/' 

Then said Geraint, " 1 wish no better fare : 
I never ate with angrier appetite 
Than when I left your mowers dinnerless. 
And into no EarFs palace will I go. 
I know, God knows, too much of palaces! 
And if he want me, let him come to me. 
But hire us some fair chamber for the night, 
And stalling for the horses, and return 
With victual for these men, and let us know." 

"Yea, my kind lord," said the glad youth, and 
went. 
Held his head high, and tilought himself a knight, 
And up the rocky pathway disappear'd, 
Leading the horse, and they were left alone. 

But when the Prince had brought his errant eyes 
Home from the rock, sideways he let them glance 
At Enid, where she droopt : his own false doom, 
That shadow of mistrust should never cross 
Betwixt them, came upon him, and he sigh'd ; 
Then with another humorous ruth remarked 
The lusty mowers laboring dinnerless. 
And watch'd the sun blaze on the turning scythe, 



46 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And after nodded sleeply in the heat. 

But she, remembering her old ruin'd hall, 

And all the windy clamor of the daws 

About her hallow turret, pluck'd the grass 

There growing longest by the meadow's edge, 

And into many a listless annulet, 

Now over, now beneath her marriage ring. 

Wove and unwove it, till the boy returned 

And told them of a chamber, and they went ; 

Where, after saying to her, " If you will, 

Call for the woman of the house," to which 

She answer'd, "Thanks, my lord"; the two re- 

main'd 
Apart by all the chamber's width, and mute 
As creatures voiceless thro' the fault of birth, 
Or two wild men supporters of a shield, 
Painted, who stare at open space, nor glance 
The one at other, parted by the shield. 

On a sudden, many a voice aleng the street. 
And heel against the pavement echoing, burst 
Their drowse ; and either started while the door, 
Push'd from without, drave backward to the wall, 
And midmost of a rout of roisterers. 
Femininely fair and dissolutely pale, 
Her suitor in old years before Geraint, 
Enter'd, the wild lord of the place, Limours. 
He moving up with pliant courtliness. 
Greeted Geraint full face, but stealthily. 
In the mid-warmth of welcome and graspt hand, 
Found Enid with the corner of his eye, 



ENID. 47 

And knew her sitting sad and solitary. 
Then cried Geraint for wine and goodly cheer 
To feed the sudden guest;, and sumptuously 
According to his fashion, bade the host 
Call in what men soever were his friends, 
And feast with these in honor of their earl ; 
"And care not for the cost ; the cost is mine." 

And wine and food were brought, and EarJ 
Limours 
Drank till he jested with all ease, and told 
Free tales, and took the word and play'd upon it, 
And made it of two colors ; for his talk, 
When wine and free companions kindled him, 
"Was wont to glance and sparkle like a gem 
Of fifty facets ; thus he moved the Prince 
To laughter and his comrades to applause. 
Then, when the Prince was merry, ask'd Limours, 
" Your leave, my lord, to cross the room, and speak 
To your good damsel there who sits apart 
And seems so lonely?" "My free leave," he said; 
"Get her to speak : she does not speak to me." 
Then rose Limours and looking at his feet, 
Like him who tries the bridge he fears may fail, 
Crost and came near, lifted adoring eyes, 
Bow'd at her side and uttered whisperingly : 

" Enid, the pilot star of my lone life, 
Enid my early and my only love, 
Enid the loss of whom has turn'd me wild — 
What chance is this? how is it I see you here? 



48 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

You are in my power at last, are in my power. 

Yet fear me not : I call mine own self wild, 

But keep a touch of sweet civility 

Here in the heart of waste and wilderness. 

I thought, but that your father came between, 

In former days you saw me favorably. 

And if it were so do not keep it back : 

Make me a little happier : let me know it : 

Owe you me nothing for a life half-lost ? 

Yea, yea, the whole dear debt of all you are. 

And, Enid, you and he, I see it with joy — 

You sit apart, you do not speak to him, 

You come with no attendance, page or maid, 

To serve you — does he love you as of old ? 

For, call it lovers' quarrels, yet I know 

Tho' men may bicker with the things they love, 

They would not make them laughable in all eyes, 

Not while they loved them; and your wretched 

dress, 
A wretched insult on you, dumbly speaks 
Your story, that this man loves you no more. 
Your beauty is no beauty to him now : 
A common chance — right well I know it — palPd — 
For I know men ; nor will you win him back, 
For the man's love once gone never returns. 
But here is orie who loves you as of old ; 
With more exceeding passion than of old; 
Good, speak the word : my followers nng him 

round : 
He sits unarmed ; I hold a finger up ; 
They understand : no ; I do not mean blood : 



ENID. \ 

Nor need you look so scared at what I say : 

My malice is no deeper than a moat, 

No stronger than a wall : there is the keep ; 

He shall not cross us more ; speak but the word: 

Or speak it not ; but then by Him that made me 

The one true lover which you ever had, 

I will make use of all the power I have. 

O pardon me ! the madness of that hour, 

When first I pa^^^ed from you, moves me ye\-.'' 

At this the tender sound of his own voice 
And sweet self-pity, or the fancy of it, 
Made his eye moist ; but Enid fear'd his eyes, 
Moist as they were, wine-heated from the feast ; 
And answered with such craft as women use. 
Guilty or guiltless, to stave oif a chance 
That breaks upon them perilously, and said : 

" Earl, if you love me as in former years, 
And do not practise on me, come with morn, 
And snatch me from him as by violence ; 
Leave me to-night : I am weary to the death." 

Low at leave-taking, with his brandished plume 
Brushing his instep, bow'd the all-amorous Earl, 
And the stout Prince bade him a loud good-night. 
He moving homeward babbled to his men, 
How Enid never loved a man but him, 



But Enid left alone with Prince Geraint 
Debating his command of silence given, 



i50 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And that she now perforce must violate it, 

Held commune with herself, and while she held 

He fell asleep, and Enid had no heart 

To wake him, but hung o'er him, wholly pleased 

To find him yet unwounded after fight, 

And hear him breathing low and equally. 

Anon she rose, and stepping lightly, heaped 

The pieces of his armor in one place, 

All to be there against a sudden need ; 

Then dozed awhile herself, but over-toil'd 

By that day's grief and travel, evermore 

Seem'd catching at a rootless thorn, and then 

Went slipping down horrible precipices. 

And strongly striking out her limbs awoke ; 

Then thought she heard the wild Earl at the door^ 

With all his rout of random followers, 

Sound on a dreadful trumpet, summoning her ; 

Which was the red cock shouting to the light, 

As the gray dawn stole o'er the dewy world, 

And glimmer'd on his armor in the room. 

And once again she rose to look at it. 

But touch'd it unawares ; jangling, the casque 

Fell, and he started up and stared at her. 

Then breaking his command of silence given, 

She told him all that Earl Limours had said, 

Except the passage that he loved her not ; 

Nor left untold the craft herself had used ; 

But ended with apology so sweet, 

Low-spoken, and of so few words, and seem'd 

So justified by that necessity, 

That tho' he thought " was it for him she wept 



ENID. 51 

In Devon ? " he but gave a wrathful groan, 

Saying " your sweet faces make good fellows foois 

And traitors. Call the host and bid him bring 

Charger and palfrey." So she glided out 

Among the heavy breathings of the house, 

And like a household Spirit at the walls 

Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and returned : 

Then tending her rough lord, tho' all unask'd, 

In silence, did him service as a squire. 

Till issuing arm'd he found the host and cried, 

^* Thy reckoning, friend ?'' and ere he learnt it, 

" Take 
Five horses and their armors ; " and the host. 
Suddenly honest, answered in amaze, 
^^ My lord, I scarce have spent the worth of one! " 
" You will be all the wealthier," said the Prince, 
And then to Enid, '^Forward! and to-day 
I charge you, Enid, more especially, 
What thing soever you may hear or see. 
Or fancy (tho' I count it of small use 
To charge you) that you speak not but obey." 

And Enid answer'd, " Yea, my lord, I know 
Your wish, and would obey : but riding first, 
I hear the violent threats you do not hear, 
I see the danger which you cannot see ; 
Then not to give you warning, that seems hard , 
Almost beyond me : yet I would obey." 

" Yea, so," said he, '' do it : be not too wise ; 
Seeing that you are wedded to a man, 



52 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Not quite mismated with a yawning clown, 
But one with arms to guard his head and youri. 
With eyes to find you out however far, 
And ears to hear you even in his dreams." 

With that he turned and looked as keenly at her 
As careful robins eye the delver's toil ; 
And that within her which a wanton fool, 
Or hasty judger, would have called her guilt, 
Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall. 
And Geraint looked and was not satisfied. 

Then forward by a way which, beaten broad, 
Led from the territory of false Limours 
To the waste earldom of another earl, 
Doorm, whom his shaking vassals calPd the Bull, 
Went Enid with her sullen follower on. 
Once she look'd back, and when she saw him ride 
More near by many a rood than yestermorn. 
It wellnigh made her cheerful : till Geraint 
Waving an angry hand as who should say 
" You watch me," saddened all her heart again. 
But while the sun yet beat a dewy blade. 
The sound of many a heavily-galloping hoof 
Smote on her ear, and turning round she saw 
Dust, and the points of lances bicker in it. 
Then not to disobey her lord's behest. 
And yet to give him warning, for he rode 
As if he heard not, moving back she held 
Her finger up, and pointed to the dust, 
At which the warrior in his obstinacy, 



ENID. 53 

Because she kept the letter of his word 

Was in a manner pleased, and turning, stood. 

And in the moment after, wild Limours, 

Borne on a black horse, like a thunder-cloud 

Whose skirts are loosened by the breaking storm, 

Half ridden off with by the thing he rode. 

And all in passion uttering a dry shriek, 

Dash'd on Geraint, who closed with him and bore 

Down by the length of lance and arm beyond 

The crupper, and so left him stunn'd or dead, 

And overthrew the next that followed him, 

And blindly rush'd on all the rout behind. 

But at the flash and motion of the man 

They vanished panic-stricken, like a shoal 

Of darting fish, that on a summer morn 

Adown the crystal dikes at Camelot 

Come slipping o'er their shadows on the sand, 

But if a man who stands upon the brink 

But lift a shining hand against the sun, 

There is not left the twinkle of a fin 

Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower ; 

So, scared but at the motion of the man, 

Fled all the boon companions of the Earl, 

And left him lying in the public way : 

So vanish friendships only made in wine. 

Then like a stormy sunlight smiled Geraint, 
Who saw the chargers of the two that fell 
Start from their fallen lords, and wildly fly, 
Mixt with the flyers. " Horse and man," he said^ 
" All of one mind and all right-honest friends ! 



54 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Not a hoof left ; and I methinks till now 

Was honest — paid with horses and with arms; 

I cannot steal or plunder, no, nor beg : 

And so what say you, shall we strip him there, 

Your lover? has your palfrey heart enough 

To bear his armor? shall we fast or dine? 

No? — then do you, being right honest, pray 

That we may meet the horsemen of Earl Dooniij 

I too would still be honest." Thus he said : 

And sadly gazing on her bridle-reins, 

And answering not one word, she led the way. 

But as a man to whom a dreadful loss 
Falls in a far land and he knows it not, 
But coming back he learns it, and the loss 
So pains him that he sickens nigh to death ; 
So fared it with Geraint, who being prick'd 
In combat with the follower of Limours, 
Bled underneath his armor secretly, 
And so rode on, nor told his gentle wife 
What aiPd him, hardly knowing it himself. 
Till his eye darkened and his helmet wagg'd ; 
And at a sudden swerving of the road, 
Tho' happily down on a bank of grass, 
The Frince, without a word, from his horse fell. 

And Enid heard the clashing of his fall. 
Suddenly came, and at his side all pale 
Dismounting, loosed the fastenings of his arms, 
Nor let her true hand falter, nor blue eye 
Moisten, till she had lighted on his wound, 



ENID. 56 

And tearing oflf her veil of faded silk 

Had bared her forehead to the blistering sun, 

And swathed the hurt that drained her dear lord's 

life. 
Then after all was done that hand could do, 
She rested, and her desolation came 
Upon her, and she wept beside the way. 

And many past, but none regarded her, 
For in that realm of lawless turbulence, 
A woman weeping for her murder'd mate 
Was cared as much for as a summer shower : 
One took him for a victim of Earl Doorm, 
Nor dared to waste a perilous pity on him : 
Another hurrying past, a man-at-arms, 
Rode on a mission to the bandit Earl ; 
Half whistling and half singing a coarse song, 
He drove the dust against her veilless eyes : 
Another, flying from the wrath of DooTm 
Before an ever-fancied arrow, made 
The long way smoke beneath him in his fear ; 
At which her palfrey whinnying lifted heel. 
And scour'd into the coppices and was lost. 
While the great charger stood, grieved like a man. 

But at the point of noon the huge Earl Doorm, 
Broad-faced with under-fringe of russet beard, 
Bound on a foray, rolling eyes of prey, 
Came riding with a hundred lances up ; 
But ere he came, like one that hails a ship. 
Cried out with a big voice, " What, is he dead?" 



,56 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

"No, no, not dead! " she answered in all haste. 
" Would some of your kind people take him up, 
And bear him hence out of this cruel sun ; 
Most sure am I, quite sure, he is not dead." 

Then said Earl Doorm : " Well, if he be not dead. 
Why wail you for him thus? you seem a child. 
And be he dead, I count you for a fool 
Your wailing will not quicken him : dead or not. 
You mar a comely face with idiot tears. 
Yet, since the face is comely — some of you, 
Here, take him up, and bear him to our hall : 
And if he live, we will have him of our band ; 
And if he die, why earth has earth enough 
To hide him. See ye take the charger too, 
A noble one." 

He spake, and past away. 
But left two brawny spearmen, who advanced, 
Each growling like a dog, when his good bone 
Seems to be pluck'd at by the village boys 
Who love to vex him eating, and he fears 
To lose his bone, and lays his foot upon it. 
Gnawing and growling ; so the ruffians growPd, 
Fearing to lose, and all for a dead man, 
Their chance of booty from the morning's raid ; 
Yet raised and laid him on a litter-bier. 
Such as they brought upon their forays out 
For those that might be wounded ; laid him on it 
All in the hollow of his shield, and took 
And bore him to the naked hall of Doorm, 
(His gentle charger following him unled) 



ENID. 57 

And cast him and the bier in which he lay 
Down on an oaken settle in the hall, 
And then departed, hot in haste to join 
Their luckier mates, but growling as before, 
And cursing their lost time, and the dead man. 
And their own Earl, and their own souls, and her. 
They might as well have blest her : she was deaf 
To blessing or to cursing save from one. 

So for long hours sat Enid by her lord, 
There in the naked hall, propping his head. 
And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him. 
And at the last he waken'd from his swoon. 
And found his own dear bride propping his head, 
And chafing his faint hands, and calling to him ; 
And felt the warm tears falling on his face ; 
And said to his own heart, " She weeps for me ; " 
And yet lay still, and feign'd himself as dead, 
That he miglit prove her to the uttermost, 
And say to his own heart, " She weeps for me." 

But in the falling afternoon return'd 
The huge Earl Doorm with plunder to the hall. 
His lusty spearmen followM him with noise : 
Each hurling down a heap of things that rang 
Against the pavement, cast his lance aside, 
And doff'd his helm : and then there flutter'd in, 
Half-bold, half-frighted, with dilated eyes, 
A tribe of women, dress'd in many hues, 
And mingled with the spearmen : and Earl Doorm 
Struck with a knife's haft hard against the board, 



58 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And caird for flesh and wine to feed his spears. 
And men brought in whole hogs and quarter 

beeves, 
And all the hall was dim with steam of flesh : 
And none spake word, but all sat down at once, 
And ate with tumult in the naked hall. 
Feeding like horses when you hear them feed ; 
Till Enid shrank far back into herself, 
To shun the wild ways of the lawless tribe. 
But when Earl Doorm had eaten all he would. 
He roird his eyes about the hall, and found 
A damsel drooping in a corner of it. 
Then he remembered her, and how she wept ; 
And out of her there came a power upon him : 
And rising on the sudden he said, " Eat! 
I never yet beheld a thing so pale. 
God's curse, it makes me mad to see you weep. 
Eat! Look yourself. Good luck had your gootf 

man, 
For were I dead who is it would weep for me? 
Sweet lady, never since I first drew breath. 
Have I beheld a lily like yourself. 
And so there lived some color in your cheek, 
Their is not one among my gentlewomen 
Were fit to wear your slipper for a glove. 
But listen to me, and by me be ruled, 
And I will do the thing I have not done. 
For you shall share my earldom with me, giri> 
And we will live like two birds in one nest. 
And I will fetch you forage from all fields, 
For I compel all creatures to my will." 



ENID. 59 

He spoke : the brawny spearman let his cheek 
Bulge with the unswallow'd piece, and turning, 

stared ; 
While some, whose souls the old serpent long had 

drawn 
Down, as the worm draws in the witherM leaf 
And makes it earth, hiss'd each at other's ear 
What shall not be recorded — women they, , 
Women, or what had been those gracious things. 
But now desired the humbling of their best, 
Yea, would have helped him to it ; and all at once 
They hated her, who took no thought of them. 
But answered in low voice, her meek head yet 
Drooping, " I pray you of your courtesy, 
He being as he is, to let me be." 

She spake so low he hardly heard her speak. 
But like a mighty patron, satisfied 
With what himself had done so graciously, 
Assumed that she had thanked him, adding, " Yea, 
Eat and be glad, for I account you mine." 

^he answerd meekly, " How should I be glad 
Henceforth in all the world at anything, 
Until my lord arise and look upon me ? " 

Here the huge Earl cried out upon her talk, 
As all but empty heart and w eariness 
And sickly nothing ; suddenly seized on her. 
And bare her by main violence to the board, 
And thrust the dish before her, crying, "^ Eat." 



60 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

" No, no," said Enid, vext, " I will not eat 
Till yonder man upon the bier arise, 
And eat with me." " Drink, then," he answered. 

"Here!" 
(And fiird a horn with wine and held it to her,) 
"Lo! I, myself, when flushed with fight, or ho^: 
God's curse, with anger, — often I myself. 
Before I well have drunken, scarce can eat : 
Drink therefore, and the wine will change yo j'' will." 

" Not so,'' she cried, " by Heaven, I will not drink. 
Till my dear lord arise and bid me do it. 
And drink with me ; and if he rise no more, 
I will not look at wine until I die." 

At this he turn'd all red and paced his hall, 
Now gnawM his under, now his upper lip, 
And coming up close to her, said at last : 
" Girl, for I see you scorn my courtesies. 
Take warning : yonder man is surely dead ; 
And I compel all creatures to my will. 
Not eat nor drink? And wherefore wail for onev 
Who put your beauty to this flout and scorn 
By dressing it in rags? Amazed am I, 
Beholding how you butt against my wish, 
That I forbear you thus : cross me no more. 
At least put off to please me this poor gown, 
This silken rag, this beggar-woman's weed : 
I love that beauty should go beautifully : 
For see you not my gentlewomen here, 
How gay, how suited to the house of one. 



ENID. 61 

Who loves that beauty should go beautifully! 
Rise therefore ; robe yourself in this : obey." 

He spoke, and one among his gentlewomen 
i^isplay'd a splendid silk of foreign loom, 
Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue 
Play'd into green, and thicker down the front 
With jewels than the sward with drops of dew, 
When all night long a cloud clings to the hill. 
And with the dawn ascending'lets the day 
Strike where it clung : so thickly shone the gems. 

But Enid answered, harder to be moved 
'l han hardest tyrants in their day of power, 
With life-long injuries burning unavenged, 
And now their hour has come ; and Enid said : 

• n this poor gown my dear lord found me first, 
And loved me serving in my father's hall : 
In this poor gown I rode with him to court, 
And there the Queen array'd me like the sun : 
in this poor gown he bade me clothe myself, 
When now we rode upon this fatal quest 
Of honor, where no honor can be gain'd : 
And this poor gown I will not cast aside 
Until himself arise a living man, 
And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough : 
Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be : 
I never loved, can never love but him : 
Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness, 
He being as he is, to let me be." 



62 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then strode the brute Earl up and down his Aall 
And took his russet beard between his teeth ; 
Last, coming up quite close, and in his mood 
Crying, " I count it of no more avail, 
Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you ; 
Take my salute," unknightly with flat hand, 
However lightly, smote her on the cheek. 
Then Enid, in her utter helplessness, 
And since she thought, " he had not dared to do it, 
Except he surely knew my lord was dead," 
Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry, 
As of a wild thing taken in the trap, 
Which sees the trapper coming thro' the wood. 

This heard Geraint, and grasping at his sword, 
(It lay beside him in the hollow shield^ 
Made but a single bound, and with a sweep of it 
Shore thro' the swarthy neck, and like a ball 
The russet-bearded head roll'd on the floor. 
So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead. 
And all the men and women in the hall 
Rose when they saw the dead man rise, and fled 
Yelling as from a spectre, and the two 
Were left alone together, and he said ; 

" Enid, I have used you worse than that dead man \ 
Done you more wrong : we both have undergone 
That trouble which has left me thrice your own : 
Henceforward I will rather die than doubt. 
And here I lay this penance on myseF, 
Not, tho' mine own ears heard yo : yester-morn — 



ENID. 6i 

You thought me sleeping, but I heard you say, 
I heard you say, that you were no true wife : 
I swear I will not ask your meaning in it : 
I do believe yourself against yourself, 
And will henceforward rather die than doubt." 

And Enid could not say one tender word, 
She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart : 
She only pray'd him, " Fly, they will return 
And slay you ; fly, your charger is without, 
My palfrey lost." " Then, Enid, shall you ride 
Behind me." '* Yea," said Enid, " let us go." 
And moving out they found the stately horse, 
Who now no more a vassal to the thief. 
But free to stretch his limbs in lawful fight, 
Neigh'd with all gladness as they came, and 

stopped 
With a low whinny toward the pair : and she 
Kiss'd the white star upon his noble front, 
Giad also ; then Geraint upon the horse 
Mounted, and reached a hand, and on his foot 
She set her own and climb'd ; he turn'd his face 
And kiss'd her climbing, and she cast her arms 
About him, and at once they rode away. 

And never yet, since high in Paradise 
O'er the four rivers the first roses blew, 
Came purer pleasure unto mortal kind, 
Than lived thro' her who in that perilous hour 
Put hand to hand beneath her husband's heart^ 
And felt him hers again ; she did not weep. 



^ IDYLS OF THE KING. 

But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist 

Like that which kept the heart of Eden green 

Before the useful trouble of the rain : 

Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyes 

As not to see before them on the path, 

Right in the gateway of the bandit hold, 

A knight of Arthur's court, who laid his lancc 

In rest, and made as if to fall upon him. 

Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood, 

She, with her mind all full of what had chanced, 

Shriek'd to the stranger, " Slay not a dead man !" 

"The voice of Enid," said the knight: but she. 

Beholding it was Edyrn son of Nudd, 

Was moved so much the more, and shriek'd again, 

'' O cousin, slay not him who gave you life." 

And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake : 

" My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love ; 

I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm ; 

And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him, 

Who love you. Prince, with something of the love 

Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us. 

For once, when I was up so high in pride 

That I was half way down the slope to Hell, 

By overthrowing me you threw me higher. 

Now, made a knight of Arthur's Table Round, 

And since I knew this Earl, when I myself 

Was half a bandit in my lawless hour, 

I come the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm 

(The king is close behind me) bidding him 

Disband himself, and scatter all his powers, 

Submit, and hear the judgment of the King." 



ENID. 65 

" He hears the judgment of the King of Kings," 
Cried the wan Prince: "and lo the powers ot 

Doorm 
Are scattered," and he pointed to the field 
Where, huddled here and there on mound and 

knoll, 
Were men and women staring and aghast, 
While some yet fled ; and then he plainlier told 
How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall. 
But when the knight besought him, " Follow me, 
Prince, to the camp, and in the King's own ear 
Speak what has chanced ; you surely have endured 
Strange chances here alone " ; that other flushed 
And hung his head, and halted in reply. 
Fearing the mild face of the blameless King 
And after madness acted question ask'd : 
Till Edyrn crying, " If you will not go 
To Arthur, then will Arthur come to you," 
" Enough," he said, " I follow," and they went. 
But Enid in their going had two fears, 
One from the bandit scattered in the field, 
And one from Edyrn. Every now and then, 
When Edyrn rein'd his charger at her side, 
She shrank a little. In a hollow land. 
From which old fires have broken, men may fear 
Fresh fire and ruin. He, perceiving, said : 

" Fair and dear cousin, you that most had cause 
To fear me, fear no longer, I am changed. 
Yourself were first the blameless cause to make 
My nature's prideful sparkle in the blood 



66 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Break into furious flame ; being repulsed 

By Yniol and yourself, I schemed and wrought 

Until I overturned him ; then set up 

(With one main purpose ever at my heart) 

My haughty jousts, and took a paramour ; 

Did her mock-honor as the fairest fair. 

And, toppling over all antagonism. 

So wax'd in pride, that I believed myself 

Unconquerable, for I was well-nigh mad : 

And, but for my main purpose in these jousts, 

I should have slain your father, seized yourself. 

I lived in hope that some time you would come 

To these my lists with him whom best you loved ; 

And there, poor cousin, with your meek blue eyes 

The truest eyes that ever answer'd heaven, 

Behold me overturn and trample on him. 

Then, had you cried, or knelt, or pray'd to me, 

.'. should not less have killed him. And you 

came, — 
But once you came, — and with your own true 

eyes 
Beheld the man you loved (I speak as one 
Speaks of a service done him) overthrow 
My proud self, and my purpose three years old, 
And set his foot upon me, and give me life. 
There was I broken down ; there was I saved : 
Tho' thence I rode all-shamed, hating the life 
He gave me, meaning to be rid of it. 
And all the penance the Queen laid upon me 
Was but to rest awhile within her court ; 
Where first as sullen as a beast new-caged, 



ENID. 67 

And waiting to be treated like a wolf 

Because I knew my deeds were known, I found, 

Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn, 

Such fine reserve and noble reticence, 

Manners so kind, yet stately, such a grace 

Of tenderest courtesy, that I began 

To glance behind me at my former life. 

And find that it had been the wolfs indeed : 

And oft I talk'd with Dubric, the high saint, 

Who, with mild heat of holy oratory. 

Subdued me somewhat to that gentleness, 

Which, when it weds with manhood, makes a man. 

And you were often there about the Queen, 

But saw me not, or marked not if you saw ; 

Nor did I care or dare to speak with you, 

But kept myself aloof till I was changed ; 

And fear not, cousin ; I am changed indeed." 

He spoke, and Enid easily believed, 
Like simple noble natures, credulous 
Of what they long for, good in friend or foe,. 
There most in those who most have done them ill. 
And when they reached the camp the king him- 
self 
Advanced to greet them, and beholding her 
Tho' pale, yet happy, ask'd her not a word, 
But went apart with Edyrn, whom he held 
In converse for a little and return'd. 
And, gravely smiling, lifted her from horse. 
And kiss'd her with all pureness, brother-like^ 
And show'd an empty tent allotted her, 



68 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And glancing for a minute, till he saw her 
Pass into it, turn'd to the Prince, and said : 

" Prince, when of iate you pray'd me for my leave 
To move to your own land, and there defend 
Your marches, I was prickM with some reproof, 
As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be, 
By having looked too much thro' alien eyes, 
And wrought too long with delegated hands, 
Not used mine own : but now behold me come 
To cleanse this common sewer of all my realm, 
With Edyrn and with others : , have you look'd 
At Edyrn ? have you seen how nobly changed ? 
This work of his is great and wonderful. 
His very face with change of heart is changed. 
The world will not believe a man repents : 
And this wise world of ours is mainly right. 
Full seldom does a man repent, or use 
Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch 
Of blood and custom wholly out of him. 
And make all clean, and plant himself afresh. 
Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart 
As I will weed this land before I go. 
I, therefore, made him of our Table Round, 
Not rashly, but have proved him every way 
One of our noblest, our most valorous, 
Sanest and most obedient : and indeed 
This work of Edyrn wrought upon himself 
After a life of violence, seems to me 
A thousand-fold more great and wonderful 
Than if some knight of mine, risking his life, 



ENID. 69 

My subject with my subjects under him, 
Should make an onslaught single on a realm 
Of robbers, tho' he slew them one by one, 
And were himself nigh wounded to the death." 

So spake the King ; low bow'd the Prince and felt 
His work was neither great nor wonderful, 
And past to Enid's tent ; and thither came 
The King's own leech to look into his hurt ; 
And Enid tended on him there ; and there 
Her constant motion round him, and the breath 
Of her sweet tendance hovering over him, 
Fiird all the genial courses of his blood 
With deeper and with ever deeper love. 
As the south-west that blowing Bala lake 
Fills all the sacred Dee. So past the days. 

But while Geraint lay healing of his hurt, 
The blameless King went forth and cast his eyes 
On whom his father Uther left in charge 
Long since, to guard the justice of the King : 
He look'd and found them wanting ; and as now 
Men weed the white horse on the Berkshire hills 
To keep him bright and clean as heretofore. 
He rooted out the slothful officer 
Or guilty, which for bribe had wink'd at wrong, 
And in their chairs set up a stronger race 
With hearts and hands, and sent a thousand men 
To till the wastes, and moving everywhere 
Clear'd the dark places and let in the law, 
And broke the bandit holds and cleansed the land. 



70 l^YLS OF THE KING. 

Then, when Geraint was whole again, they past 
With Arthur to Caerleon upon Usk. 
There the great Queen once more embraced her 

friend. 
And clothed her in apparel like the day. 
And tho' Geraint could never take again 
That comfort from their converse which he took 
Before the Queen's fair name was breathed upon, 
He rested well content that all was well. 
Thence after tarrying for a space they rode, 
And fifty knights rode with them to the shores 
Of Severn, and they past to their own land. 
And there he kept the justice of the King 
So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts 
Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died : 
And being ever foremost in the chase, 
And victor at the tilt and tournament, 
They calPd him the great Prince and man of men. 
But Enid, whom her ladies loved to call 
Enid the Fair, a grateful people named 
Enid the Good ; and in their halls arose 
The cry of children, Enids and Geraints 
Of times to be ; nor did he doubt her more 
But rested in her fealty, till he crown'd 
A happy life with a fair death, and fell 
Against the heathen of the Northern Sea 
In battle, fighting for the blameless King. 



VIVIEN. 



A STORM was coming, but the winds were still, 
And in the wild woods of Broceliande, 
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old, 
It looked a tower of ruin'd masonwork, 
At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay. 

The wily Vivien stole from Arthur's court ; 
She hated all the knights, and heard in thought 
Their lavish comment when her name was named. 
For once when Arthur walking all alone, 
Vext at a rumor rife about the Queen, 
Had met her, Vivien, being greeted fair, 
Would fain have wrought upon his cloudy mood 
With reverent eyes mock-loyal, shaken voice, 
And fluttered adoration, and at last 
With dark sweet hints of some who prized him 

more 
Than who should prize him most ; at which the King 
Had gazed upon her blankly and gone by : 
But one had watch'd, and had not held his peace : 
It made the laughter of an afternoon 
That Vivien should attempt the blameless King. ' 
And after that, she set herself to gain 
7^ 



72 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Him, the most famous man of all those times, 
Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts. 
Had built the King his havens, ships, and halls, 
Was also Bard, and knew the starry heavens ; 
The people called him Wizard ; whom at first 
She play'd about with slight and sprightly talk, 
And vivid smiles, and faintly-venom'd points 
Of slander, glancing here and grazing there ; 
And yielding to his kindlier moods, the Seer 
Would watch her at her petulance, and play, 
Ev'n when they seem'd unlovable, and laugh 
As those that watch a kitten ; thus he grew 
Tolerant of what he half disdained, and she, 
Perceiving that she was but half disdained, 
Began to break her sports with graver fits. 
Turn red or pale, would often when they met 
Sigh fully, or all-silent gaze upon him 
With such a fixt devotion, that the old man, 
Tho' doubtful, felt the flattery, and at times 
Would flatter his own wish in age for love, 
And half believe her true : for thus at times 
He waver'd ; but that other clung to him, 
Fixt in her will, and so the seasons went. 
Then fell upon him a great melancholy ; 
And leaving Arthur's court he gain'd the beach ; 
Tnere found a little boat, and stept into it ; 
And Vivien followed, but he marked her not. 
She took the helm and he the sail ; the boat 
Drave with a sudden wind across the deeps. 
And touching Breton sands they disembark'd. 
And then she follow'd Merlin all the way. 



VIVIEN. 73 

Ev'n to the wild woods of Broceliande. 

For Merlin once had told her of a charm, 

The which if any wrought on any one 

With woven paces and with waving arms, 

The man so wrought on ever seem'd to lie 

Closed in the four walls of the hollow tower, 

From which was no escape forevermore ; 

And none could find that man forevermore, 

Nor could he see but him who wrought the charm 

Coming and going, and he lay as dead 

And lost to life and use and name and fame. 

And Vivien ever sought to work the charm 

Upon the great Enchanter of the Time, 

As fancying that her glory would be great 

According to his greatness whom she quench'd. 

There lay she all her length and kiss'd his feet, 
As if in deepest reverence and in love. 
A twist of gold was round her hair ; a robe 
Of samite without price, that more exprest 
Than hid her, clung about her lissome limbs, 
In color like the satin-shining palm 
On sallows in the windy gleams of March : 
And while she kiss'd them, crying, "Trample me, 
Dear feet, that I have followed thro** the world, 
And I will pay you worship ; tread me down 
And I will kiss you for it ; " he was mute : 
So dark a forethought rolPd about his brain, 
As on a dull day in an Ocean cave 
The blind wave feeling round his long seahall 
In silence : wherefore, when she lifted up 



74 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

A face of sad appeal, and spake and said, 

" O Merlin, do you love me ? " and again, 

" O Merli», do you love me? " and once more, 

" Great Master, do you love me? '' he was mute. 

And lissome Vivien, holding by his heel, 

Writhed toward him, slided up his knee and sat, 

Behind his ankle twined her hollow feet 

Together, curved an arm about his neck. 

Clung like a snake : and letting her left hand 

Droop from his mighty shoulder as a leaf. 

Made with her right a comb of pearl to part 

The lists of such a beard as youth gone out 

Had left in ashes : then he spoke and said, 

Not looking at her, " Who are wise in love 

Love most, say least." and Vivien answered quick, 

" I saw the little elf-god eyeless once 

In Arthur's arras hall at Camelot : 

But neither eyes nor tongue, — O stupid child! 

Yet you are wise who say it ; let me think 

Silence is wisdom : I am silent then 

And ask no kiss ; "" then adding all at once, 

" And lo, I clothe myself with wisdom," drew 

The vest and shaggy mantle of his beard 

Across her neck and bosom to her knee. 

And call'd herself a gilded summer fly 

Caught in a great old tyrant spider's web. 

Who meant tc eat her -;p in that wild wood 

Without one word. So Vivien calPd herself. 

But rather seem'd a lovely baleful star 

VeiPd in gray vapor ; till he sadly smiled : 

<< To what request for what strange boon," he said, 



VIVIEN. 75 

•* Are these your pretty tricks and fooleries, 

Vivien, the preamble? yet my thanks, 
For these have broken up my melancholy." 

And Vivien answered smiling saucily, 
" What, O my master, have you found your voice? 

1 bid the stranger welcome. Thanks at last! 
But yesterday you never opened lip. 
Except indeed to drink : no cup had we : 

In mine own lady palms I culPd the spring 
That gather"'d trickling dropvvise from the cleft, 
And made a pretty cup of both my hands 
And offered you it kneeling : then you drank 
And knew no more, nor gave me one poor word ; 
O no more thanks than might a goat have given 
With no more sign of reverence than a beard. 
And when we halted at that other well, 
And I was faint to swooning, and you lay 
Foot-gilt with all the blossom-dust of those 
Deep meadows we had traversed, did you know 
That Vivien bathed your feet before her own? 
And yet no thanks : and all thro' this wild wood 
And all this morning when I fondled you : 
Boon, yes, there was a boon, one not so strange — 
How had I wrong'd you? surely you are wise, 
But such a silence is more wise than kind." 

And Merlin lock'd his hand in hers and said : 
" O did you never lie upon the shore. 
And watch the curFd white of the coming wave 
Glass'd in the slippery sand before it breaks? 



76 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Ev'n such a wave, but not so pleasurable^ 
Dark in the glass of some presageful mood, 
Had I for three days seen, ready to fall. 
And then I rose and fled from Arthur's court 
To break the mood. You folio w'd me unask'd ; 
And when I look'd, and saw you following still, 
My mind involved yourself the nearest thing 
In that mind-mist : for shall I tell you truth? 
You seenrd that wave about to break upon me 
And sweep me from my hold upon the world, 
My use and name and fame. Your pardon, child. 
Your pretty sports have brightened all again. 
And ask your boon, for boon I owe you thrice, 
Once for wrong done you by confusion, next 
For thanks it seems till now neglected, last 
For these your dainty gambols : wherefore ask : 
And take this boon so strange and not zz strange.' 

And Vivien answered, smiling mournfully : 
" O not so strange as my long asking it. 
Nor yet so strange as you yourself are strange. 
Nor half so strange as that dark mood of yours. 
I ever fear'd you were not wholly mine ; 
And see, yourself have own'd you did me wrong. 
The people call you prophet : let it be : 
But not of those that can expound themselves. 
Take Vivien for expounder ; she will call 
That three-days-long presageful gloom of yours 
No presage, but the same mistrustful mood 
That makes you seem less noble than yourself, 
Whenever I have ask'd this very boon. 



VIVIEN. 77 

Now ask'd again : for see you not, dear love, 

That such a mood as that, which lately gloom'd 

Your fancy when you saw me following you, 

Must make me fear still more you are not mine, 

Must make me yearn still more to prove you mine, 

And make me wish still more to learn this charm 

Of woven paces and of waving hands. 

As proof of trust. O Merlin, teach it mc. 

The charm so taught will charm us both to rest. 

For, grant me some slight power upon your fate, 

I, feeling that you felt me worthy trust. 

Should rest and let you rest, knowing you mine, 

And therefore be as great as you are named, 

Not muffled round with selfish reticence. 

How hard you look and how denyingly! 

O, if you think this wickedness in me, 

That I should prove it on you unawares. 

To make you lose your use and name and fame, 

That makes me most indignant ; then our bond 

Had best be loosed forever : but think or not. 

By Heaven that hears I tell you the clean truth, 

As clean as blood of babes, as white as milk : 

O Merlin, may this earth, if ever I, 

If these unwitty wandering wits of mine, 

Ev'n in the jumbled rubbish of a dream, 

Have tript on such conjectural treachery — 

May this hard earth cleave to the Nadir hell 

Down, down, and close again, and nip me flat, 

If I be such a traitress. Yield my boon, 

Till which I scarce can yield you all I am ; 

And grant my re-reiterated wish. 



78 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

The great proof of your love : because I think, 
However wise, you hardly know me yet." 

And Merlin loosed his hand from her and said ; 
'' I never was less wise, however wise, 
Too curious Vivien, tho' you talk of trust, 
Than when I told you first of such a charm. 
Yea, if you talk of trust I tell you this. 
Too much I trusted, when I told you that, 
And stirr'd this vice in you which ruin'd man 
Thro' woman the first hour; for howsoever 
In children a great curiousness be well. 
Who have to learn themselves and all the world^ 
In you, that are no child, for still I find 
Your face is practised, when I spell the lines, 
I call it, — well, I will not call it vice : 
But since you name yourself the summer fly, 
I well could wish a cobweb for the gnat, 
That settles, beaten back, and beaten back 
Settles, till one could yield for weariness : 
But since I will not yield to give you power 
Upon my life and use and name and fame. 
Why will you never ask some other boon ? 
Yea, by God's rood, I trusted you too much." 

And Vivien, like the tenderest-hearted maid 
That ever bided tryst at village stile, 
Made answer, either eyelid wet with tears. 
" Nay, master, be not wrathful with your maid ; 
Caress her : let her feel herself forgiven 
Who feels no heart to ask another boon. 



ViViEN. 79 

I think you hardly know the tender rhyme 
Of ' trust me not at all or all in all.' 
I heard the great Sir Lancelot sing it once, 
And it shall answer for me. Listen to it. 

' In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, 
Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers : 
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. 

< It is the little rift within the lute, 
That by and by will make the music mute, 
And ever widening slowly silence all. 

' The little rift within the lover's lute, 
■Or little pitted speck in garner'd fruit, 
That rotting inward slowly moulders all. 

' It is not worth the keeping : let it go : 
But shall it ? answer, darling, answer, no. 
And trust me not at all or all in all.' 

O master, do you love my tender rhyme ? " 

And Merlin look'd and half believed her true, 
So tender was her voice, so fair her face. 
So sweetly gleam'd her eyes behind her tears 
Like sunlight on the plain behind a shower : 
And yet he answer'd half indignantly : 

" Far other was the song that once I heard 
By this huge oak, sung nearly where we sit : 



80 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

For here we met, some ten or twelve of us, 

To chase a creature that was current then 

In these wild woods, the hart with golden horns. 

It was the time when first the question rose 

About the founding of a Table Round, 

That was to be, for love of God and men 

And noble deeds, the flower of all the world. 

And each incited each to noble deeds. 

And while we waited, one, the youngest of us, 

We could not keep him silent, out he flashed, 

And into such a song, such fire for fame, 

Such trumpet-blowings in it, coming down 

To such a stern and iron-clashing close, 

That when he stopt we long'd to hurl together, 

And should have done it ; but the beauteous beast 

Scared by the noise upstarted at our feet, 

And like a silver shadow slipt away 

Thro' the dim land ; and all day long we rode 

Thro' the dim land against a rushing wind. 

That glorious roundel echoing in our ears. 

And chased the flashes of his golden horns 

Until they vanished by the fairy well 

That laughs at iron — as our warriors did — 

Where children cast their pins and nails, and cry,. 

" Laugh little well," but touch it with a sword, 

It buzzes wildly round the point ; and there 

We lost him : such a noble song was that. 

But, Vivien, when you sang me that sweet rhyme,. 

I. felt as tho' you knew this cursed charm. 

Were proving it on me, and that I lay 

And felt them slowly ebbing, name and fame." 



VIVIEN. ai 

And Vivien answer'd, smiling mournfully : 
" O mine have ebb'd away forevermore, 
And all thro' following you to this wild wood, 
Because I saw you sad, to comfort you. 
Lo now, what hearts have men ! they never mount 
As high as woman in her selfless mood. 
And touching fame, however you scorn my song 
Take one verse more — the lady speaks it — this: 

' My name, once mine, now thine, is closelier mine, 
For fame, could fame be mine, that fame were thine, 
And shame, could shame be thine, that shame were 

mine. 
So trust me not at all or all in all.' 

"Says she not well? and there is more— this 
rhyme 
Is like the fair pearl necklace of the Queen, 
That burst in dancing, and the pearls were spilt ; 
Some lost, some stolen, some as relics kept. 
But nevermore the same two sister pearls 
Ran down the silken thread to kiss each other 
On her white neck — so it is with this rhyme 5 
It lives dispersedly in many hands. 
And every minstrel sings it differently ; 
Yet there is one true line, the pearl of pearls ; 
< Man dreams of Fame while woman wakes to love.'' 
True : Love, tho' Love were of the grossest, carves. 
A portion from the solid present, eats 
And uses, careless of the rest ; but Fame, 
The Fame that follows death is nothing to us ; 



82 IDYLS OF THE KIXG. 

And what is Fame in life but half-disfame^ 
And counterchanged with darkness ? you yourself 
Know well that Envy calls you Devil's son, 
And since you seem the Master of all Art, 
They fain would make you Master of all Vice." 

And Merlin lock'd his hand in hers and said, 
" I once was looking for a magic weed, 
And found a fair young squire who sat alone, 
Had carved himself a knightly shield of wood, 
And then was painting on it fancied arms, 
Azure, an Eagle rising, or, the Sun 
In dexter chief; the scroll 'I follow fame.' 
And speaking not, but leaning over him, 
I took his brush and blotted out the bird. 
And made a Gardener putting in a graff. 
With this for motto, ' Rather use than fame/ 
You should have seen him blush ; but afterwards 
He made a stalwart knight. O Vivien, 
For you, methinks you think you love me well ; 
For me, I love you somewhat : rest : and Love 
Should have some rest and pleasure in himself, 
Not ever be too curious for a boon. 
Too prurient for a proof against the grain 
Of him you say you love : but Fame with men, 
Being but ampler means to serve mankind, 
Should have small rest or pleasure in herself, 
But work as vassal to the larger love 
That dwarfs the petty love of one to one. 
Use gave me Fame at first, and Fame again 
Increasing gave me use. Lo, there my boon! 



VIVIEN. 83 

What other? for men sought to prove me vile. 

Because I wish'd to give them greater minds ; 

And then did Envy call me Devil's son ; 

The sick weak beast seeking to help herself 

By striking at her better, miss'd, and brought 

Her own claw back, and wounded her own heart. 

Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, 

But when my name was lifted up, the storm 

Broke on the mountain and I cared not for it. 

Right well know I that Fame is half disfame, 

Yet needs must work my work. That other fame, 

To one at least, who hath not children, vague, 

The cackle of the unborn about the grave, 

I cared not for it ; a single misty star, 

Which is the second in a line of stars 

That seem a sword beneath a belt of three, 

I never gazed upon it but I dreamt 

Of some vast charm concluded in that star 

To make fame nothing. Wherefore, if I fear, 

Giving you power upon me thro' this charm. 

That you might play me falsely, having power, 

However well you think you love me now 

(As sons of kings loving in pupilage 

Have turn'd to tyrants when they came to power) 

I rather dread the loss of use than fame ; 

If you — and not so much from wickedness. 

As some wild turn of anger, or a mood 

Of overstrain'd affection, it may be. 

To keep me all to your own self, or else 

A sudden spurt of woman's jealousy, 

Should try this charm on whom you say you love.'* 



84 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And Vivien answer'd, smiling as in wrath : 
" Have I not sworn? I am not trusted. Good! 
Well, hide it, hide it ; I shall find it out ; 
And being found take heed of Vivien. 
A woman and not trusted, doubtless I 
Might feel some sudden turn of anger born 
Of your misfaith ; and your fine epithet 
Is accurate too, for this full love of mine 
Without the full heart, back may merit well 
Your term of overstrained. So used as I, 
My daily wonder is, I loved at all. 
And as to woman's jealousy, O why not? 

to what end, except a jealous one, 
And one to make me jealous if I love, 
Was this fair charm invented by yourself? 
J well believe that all about this world 
You cage a buxom captive here and there, 
Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower 
r rom wr'ch is no escape forevermore." 

Then the great Master merrily answered her; 
" Full many a love in loving youth was mine, 

1 needed then no charm to keep them mine 
But youth and love ; and that full heart of yours 
Whereof you prattle, may now assure you mine ; 
So live uncharm'd. For those who wrought 

first. 
The wrist is parted from the hand that waved. 
The feet unmortised from their ankle-bones 
Who paced it, ages back : but will you hear 
The legend as in guerdon for your rhyme? 



VIVIEN. 85 

<' There lived a king in the most Eastern East, 
Less old than I, yet older, for my blood 
Hath earnest in it of far springs to be. 
A tawny pirate anchor'd in his port, 
Whose bark had plundered twenty nameless isles ; 
And passing one, at the high peep of dawn, 
He saw two cities in a thousand boats 
All fighting for a woman on the sea. 
And pushing his black craft among them all, 
He lightly scattered theirs and brought her off, 
With loss of half his people arrow-slain ; 
A maid so smooth, so white, so wonderful. 
They said a light came from her when she moved : 
And since the pirate would not yield her up, 
The King impaled him for his piracy ; 
Then made her Queen: but those isle-nurtur'd 

eyes 
Waged such unwilling tho' successful war 
On all the youth, they sicken'd ; councils thinn'd, 
And armies waned, for magnet-like she drew 
The rustiest iron of old fighters' hearts ; 
And beasts themselves would worship; camels 

knelt 
Unbidden, and the brutes of mountain back, 
That carry kings in castles, bowM black knees 
Of homage, ringing with their serpent hands, 
To make her smile, her golden ankle-bells. 
What wonder being jealous, that he sent 
His horns of proclamation out thro' all 
The hundred under-kingdoms that he sway'd 
To find a wizard who might teach the King 



86 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Some charm, which being wrought upon the Queen 

Might keep her all his own : to such a one 

He promised more than ever king had given, 

A league of mountain full of golden mines, 

A province with a hundred miles of coast, 

A palace and a princess, all for him : 

But on all those who tried and faiPd, the King 

Pronounced a dismal sentence, meaning by it 

To keep the list low and pretenders back, 

Or like a king, not to be trifled with — 

Their heads should moulder on the city gates. 

And many tried and fail'd, because the charm 

Of nature in her overbore their own : 

And many a wizard brow bleach'd on the walls : 

And many weeks a troop of carrion crows 

Hung like a cloud above the gateway towers." 

And Vivien, breaking in upon him, said : 
■" I sit and gather honey ; yet, methinks, 
Your tongue has tript a little : ask yourself. 
The lady never made unwilling war 
With those fine eyes : she had pleasure in it, 
And made her good man jealous with good cause. 
And lived there neither dame nor damsel then 
Wroth at a lover's loss ? were all as tame, 
I mean, as noble, as their Queen was fair? 
Not one to fl'rt a venom at her eyes. 
Or pinch a murderous dust into her drink. 
Or make her paler with a poison'd rose ? 
Well, those were not our days ; but did they find 
A wizard ? Tell me, was he like to thee ? " 



VIVIEN. 87 

She ceased, and made her lithe arm around his 
neck 
Tighten, and then drew back, and let her eyes 
Speak for her, glowing on him, like a bride's 
On her new lord, her own, the first of men. 

He answered laughing, " Nay, not like to me. 
At last they found — his foragers for charms — 
A little glassy-headed hairless man 
Who lived alone in a great wild on grass ; 
Read but one book, and ever reading grew 
So grated down and filed away with thought. 
So lean his eyes v^ere monstrous ; while the skin 
Clung but to crate and basket, ribs and spine. 
And since he kept his mind on one sole aim, 
Nor ever touch'd fierce wine, nor tasted flesh, 
Nor own'd a sensual wdsh, to him the wall 
That sunders ghosts and shadow-casting men 
Became a crystal, and he saw them thro' it. 
And heard their voices talk behind the wall, 
And learnt their elemental secrets, powers 
And forces ; often o'er the sun's bright eye 
Drew the vast eyelid of an inky cloud. 
And lash'd it at the base with slanting storm ; 
Or in the noon of mist and driving rain. 
When the lake whiten'd and the pine wood roar'd^ 
And the cairn'd mountain was a shadow, sunn'd 
The world to peace again : here was the man. 
And so by force they dragg'd him to the King. 
And then he taught the King to charm the Queen- 
In such wise, that no man could see her morC; 



88 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Nor saw she save the King, who wrought the charm. 
Coming and going, and she lay as dead, 
And lost all use of life : but when the King 
Made proffer of the league of golden mines, 
The province with the hundred miles of coast, 
The palace and the princess, that old man 
Went back to his old wild, and lived on grass, 
And vanished, and his book came down to me." 

And Vivien answer'd, smiling saucily : 
^^ You have the book : the charm is written in it : 
Good : take my counsel : let me know it at once : 
For keep it like a puzzle chest in chest, 
With each chest lock'd and padlocked thirty-fold, 
And whelm all tnis beneath as vast a mound 
As after furious battle turfs the slain 
On some wild down above the windy deep, 
I yet should strike upon a sudden means 
To dig, pick, open, find and read the charm : 
Then, if I tried it, who should blame me then? " 

And smiling as a Master smiles at one 
That is not of his school, nor any school 
But that where blind and naked Ignorance 
Delivers brawling judgments, unashamed. 
On all things all day long, he answered her : 

'-^Yoti read the book, my pretty Vivien! 
O ay, it is but twenty pages long. 
But every page having an ample marge, 
And every marge enclosing in the midst 



VIVIEN. 89 

A square of text that looks a little blot, 
The text no larger than the limbs of fleas ; 
And every square of text an awful charm, 
Writ in a language that has long gone by. 
So long, that mountains have arisen since 
With cities on their flanks — you read the book! 
And every margin scribbled, crost and crammed 
With comment, densest condensation, hard 
To mind and eye ; but the long sleepless nights 
Of my long life have made it easy to me. 
And none can read the text, not even I ; 
And none can read the comment but myself; 
And in the comment did I find the charm. 
O, the results are simple ; a mere child 
Might use it to the harm of any one, 
And never could undo it : ask no more : 
For tho' you should not prove it upon me, 
But keep that oath you swore, you might, per- 
chance, 
Assay it on some one of the Table Round, 
And all because you dream they babble of you." 

And Vivien, frowning in true anger, said : 
" What dare the full-fed liars say of me? 
They ride abroad redressing human wrongs! 
They sit with knife in meat and wine in horn. 
They bound to holy vows of chastity I 
Were I not woman, I could tell a tale. 
But you are man, you well can understand 
The shame that cannot be explained for shame. 
Not one of all the drove should touch me: swine!" 



90 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then answered Merlin careless of her words, 
" You breathe but accusation vast and vague, 
Spleen-born, I think, and proofless. If you know. 
Set up the charge you know, to stand or fall! " 

And Vivien answer'd, frowning wrathfiilly : 
" O ay, what say ye to Sir Valence, him 
Whose kinsman left him watcher o'er his wife 
And two fair babes, and went to distant lands ; 
Was one year gone, and on returning found 
Not two but three : there lay the reckling, one 
But one hour old! What said the happy sire? 
A seven months' babe had been a truer gift. 
Those twelve sweet moons confused his fatherhood! "^ 

Then answer'd Merlin : "Nay, I know the tale. 
Sir Valence wedded with an outland dame : 
Some cause had kept him sunder'd from his wife : 
One child they had : it lived with her : she died : 
His kinsman travelling on his own affair 
Was charged by Valence to bring home the child. 
He brought, not found it therefore : take tha truth." 

" O ay," said Vivien, " overtrue a tale 
What say ye then to sweet Sir Sagramore, 
That ardent man? 'to pluck the flower in season* 
So says the song, '• I trow it is no treason.' 
O Master, shall we call him overquick 
To crop his own sweet rose before the hour?'* 

And Merlin answer'd : " Overquick are you 
To catch a lofty plume fall'n from the wing 



/iVIEN. 91 

Of that foul bird of rapine whose whole prey 

Is man's good name : he never wronged his bride. 

I know the tale. An angry gust of wind 

PuffM out his torch among the myriad-room'd 

And many-corridor'd complexities 

Of Arthur's palace : then he found a door 

And darkling felt the sculptured ornament 

That wreathen found it made it seem his own ; 

And wearied out made for the couch and slept, 

A stainless man beside a stainless maid ; 

And either slept, nor knew of other there ; 

Till the high dawn piercing the royal rose 

In Arthur's casement glimmer'd chastely down, 

Blushing upon them blushing, and at once 

He rose without a word and parted from hef : 

But when the thin'g was blazed about the court, 

The brute world howling forced them into bonds, 

And as it chanced they are happy, being pure." 

" O ay," said Vivien, " that were likely too. 
What say ye then to fair Sir Percivale 
And of the horrid foulness that he wrought, 
The saintly youth, the spotless lamb of Christ, 
Or some black wether of St. Satan's fold. 
What, in the precincts of the chapel-yard. 
Among the knightly brasses of the graves. 
And by the cold Hie Jacets of the dead! " 

And Merlin answer'd, careless of her charge : 
<' A sober man is Percivale and pure ; 
But once in life was fluster'd with new wine ; 



92 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then paced for coolness in the chapel-yard, 

Where one of Satan's shepherdesses caught 

And meant to stamp him with her master's mark ; 

And that he sinn'd is not believable ; 

For, look upon his face! — but if he sinn'd, 

The sin that practice burns into the blood, 

And not the one dark hour which brings remorse^ 

Will brand us, after, of whose fold we be : 

Or else were he, the holy king, whose hymns 

Are chanted in the minster, worse than all. 

But is your spleen froth'd out, or have ye more?" 

And Vivien answer'd frowning yet in wrath : 
" O ay ; what say ye to Sir Lancelot, friend ? 
Traitor or true ? that commerce with the Queen, 
I ask you, is it clamor'd by the child, 
Or whisper'd in the corner? do you know it?" 

To which he answer'd sadly : " Yea, I know it. 
Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at first. 
To fetch her, and she took him for the King ; 
So fixt her fancy on him : let him be. 
But have you no one word of loyal praise 
For Arthur, blameless King and stainless man?" 

She answer'd with a low and chuckling laugh : 
" Him? is he a man at all, who knows and winks? 
Sees what his fair bride is and does, and winks? 
By which the good King means to blind himself, 
And blinds himself and all the Table Round 
To all the foulness that they work. Myself 



VIVIEN. 95 

Could call him (were it not for womanhood) 
The pretty, popular name such manhood earns. 
Could call him the main cause of all their crime ; 
Yea, were he not crown'd king, coward, and fool." 

Then Merlin to his own heart, loathing, said : 
"O true and tender! O rny liege and king! 
O selfless man and stainless gentleman, 
Who wouldst against thine own eye-witness fain 
Have all men true and leal, all women pure : 
How, in the mouths of base interpreters. 
From over-fineness not intelligible 
To things with every sense as false and foul 
As the poached filth that floods the middle street. 
Is thy white blamelessness accounted blame!" 

But Vivien deeming Merlin over-borne 
By instance, recommenced, and let her tongue 
Rage like a fire among the noblest names, 
Polluting, and imputing her whole self, 
Defaming and defacing, till she left 
Not even Lancelot brave, nor Galahad clean. 

Her words had issue other than she wilPd. 
He dragg'd his eyebrow bushes down, and made 
A snowy penthouse for his hollow eyes, 
And muttered in himself, "Tell her the charm! 
So, if she had it, would she rail on me 
To snare the next, and if she have it not, 
So will she rail. What did the wanton say? 
' Not mount as high ; ' we scarce can sink as low : 



94 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

For men at most differ as Heaven and earth, 
But women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell. 
I know the Table Round, my friends of old : 
All brave, and many generous, and some chaste. 
I think she cloaks the wounds of loss with lies ; 
I do believe she tempted them and faiPd, 
She is so bitter : for fine plots may fail, 
Tho' harlots paint their talk as well as face 
With colors of the heart that are not theirs. 
I will not let her know : nine tithes of times 
Face-flatterers and backbiters are the same. 
And they, sweet soul, that most impute a crime 
Are pronest to it, and impute themselves. 
Wanting the mental rage ; or low desire 
Not to feel lowest makes them level all ; 
Yea, they would pare the mountain to the plain, 
To leave an equal baseness ; and in this 
Are harlots like the crowd, that if they find 
Some stain or blemish in a name of note, 
Not grieving that their greatest are so small, 
Inflate themselves with some insane delight, 
And judge all nature from her feet of clay, 
Without the will to lift their eyes, and see 
Her godlike head crown'd with spiritual fire. 
And touching other worlds. I am weary of her." 

He spoke in words part heard, in whispers part, 
Half-suifocated in the hoary fell 
And many-winter'd fleece of throat and chin. 
But Vivien, gathering somewhat of his mood, 
And hearing " harlot " muttered twice or thrice, 



VIVIEN. 95 

Leapt from her session on his lap, and stood 

Stiff as a viper frozen : loathsome sight, 

How from the rosy lips of life and love, 

Flashed the bare-grinning skeleton of death ! 

White was her cheek ; sharp breaths of anger puff'd 

Her fairy nostril out ; her hand half-clench'd 

Went faltering sideways downward to her belt, 

And feeling ; had she found a dagger there 

(For in a wink the false love turns to hate) 

She would have stabbM him ; but she found it not : 

His eye was calm, and suddenly she took 

To bitter weeping like a beaten child, 

A long, long weeping, not consolable. 

Then her false voice made way broken with sobs. 

*' O crueller than was ever told in tale, 
Or sung in song! O vainly lavished love! 

cruel, there was nothing wild or strange, 
Or seeming shameful, for what shame in love, 
So love be true, and not as yours is — nothing 
Poor Vivien had not done to win his trust 

Who caird her what he calPd her — all her crime, 
All — all — the wish to prove him wholly hers." 

She mused a little, and then clapt her hands 
Together with a wailing shriek, and said : 
'' Stabb'd through the heart's affections to the 

heart ! 
Seeth'd like the "kid in its own mother's milk! 
Kill'd with a word worse than a life of blows I 

1 thought that he was gentle, being great : 



96 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

God, that I had loved a smaller man! 

1 should have found in him a greater heart. 
O, I, that flattering my true passion, saw 

The knights, the court, the king, dark in your 

light. 
Who loved to make men darker than they are, 
Because of that high pleasure which I had 
To seat you sole upon my pedestal 
Of worship — I am answered, and henceforth 
The course of life that seem'd so flowery to me 
With you for guide and master, only you, 
Becomes the sea-cliff pathway broken short, 
And ending in a ruin — nothing left. 
But into some low cave to crawl, and there, 
If the wolf spare me, weep my life away, 
Kiird with inutterable unkindliness." 

She paused, she turn'd away, she hung her head; 
The snake of gold slid from her hair, the braid 
Slipt and uncoiPd itself, she wept afresh. 
And the dark wood grew darker toward the storm 
In silence, while his anger slowly died 
Within him, till he let his wisdom go 
For ease of heart, and half believed her true : 
Caird her to shelter in the hollow oak, 
" Come from the storm," and having no reply, 
Gazed at the heaving shoulder, and the face 
Hand-hidden, as for utmost grief or shame ; 
Then thrice essayed, by tenderest-touching terms 
To sleek her ruffled peace of mind, in vain. 
At last she let herself be conquer'd by him, 



VIVIEN. 97 

And as the cageling newly flown returns, 

The seeming-injured simple-hearted thing 

Came to her old perch back, and settled there. 

There while she sat, half-falling from his knees, 

Half-nestled at his heart, and since he saw 

The slow tear creep from her closed eyelid yet, 

About her, more in kindness than in love, 

The gentle wizard cast a shielding arm . 

But she dislink'd herself at once and rose. 

Her arms upon her breast across, and stood 

A virtuous gentlewoman deeply wronged, 

Upright and flushed before him ; then she said : 

" There must be now no passages of love 

Betwixt us twain henceforward evermore. 

Since, if I be what I am grossly calPd, 

What should be granted which your own gross 

heart 
Would reckon worth the taking? I will go. 
In truth, but one thing now —better have died 
Thrice than have ask'd it once — could make me 

stay — 
That proof of trust — so often asked in vain! 
How justly, after that vile term of yours, 
I find with grief ! I might believe you then, 
Who knows? once more. O, what was once to me 
Mere matter of the fancy, now has grown 
The vast necessity of heart and life. 
Farewell : think kindly of me, for I fear 
My fate or fault, omitting gayer youth 
For one so old, must be to love you still. 
But ere I leave you let me swear once more 



98 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

That if I schemed against your peace in this, 
May yon just heaven, that darkens o'er me, send 
One flash, that, missing all things else, may make 
My scheming brain a cinder, if I lie." 

Scarce had she ceased, when out of heaven a bolt 
(For now the storm was close above them) struck, 
Furrowing a giant oak, and javelining 
With darted spikes and splinters of the wood 
The dark earth round. He raised his eyes and saw 
The tree that shone white-listed thro' the gloom. 
But Vivien, fearing heaven had heard her oath, 
And dazzled by the livid-flickering fork, 
And deafen'd with the stammering cracks and claps 
That followed, flying back and crying out, 
" O Merlin, tho' you do not love me, save. 
Yet save me ! " clung to him and hugg'd him close : 
And caird him dear protector in her fright. 
Nor yet forgot her practice in her fright, 
But wrought upon his mood and hugg'd him close. 
The pale blood of the wizard at her touch 
Took gayer colors, like an opal warm'd 
She blamed herself for telling hearsay tales : 
She shook from fear, and for her fault she wept 
Of petulancy ; she calPd him lord and liege, 
Her seer, her bard, her silver star of eve, 
Her God, her Merlin, the one passionate love 
Of her whole life ; and ever overhead 
Bellow'd the tempest, and the rotten branch 
Snapt in the rushing of the river-rain 
Above them ; and in change of glare and gloom 



VIVIEN. 99 

Her eyes and neck glittering went and came ; 
Till now the storm, its burst of passion spent, 
Moaning and calling out of other lands, 
Had left the ravaged woodland yet once more 
To peace ; and what should not have been ha4 

been, 
For Merlin, overtalk'd and overworn, 
Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept. 

Then, in one moment, she put forth the charm 
Of woven paces and of waving hands, 
And in the hollow oak he lay as dead, 
And lost to life and use and name and fame. 
Then crying " I have made his glory mine," 
And shrieking out " O fool ! " the harlot leapt 
Adown the forest, and the thicket closed 
Behind her, and the forest echo'd "fooL" 



ELAINK 



Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, 
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, 
High in her chamber up a tower to the east 
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot ; 
Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray 
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam ; 
Then fearing rust or soilure, fashion'd for it 
A case of silk, and braided thereupon 
All the devices blazon'd on the shield 
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit, 
A border fantasy of branch and flower, 
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest 
Nor rested thus content, but day by day 
Leaving her household and good father climb'd 
That eastern tower, and entering barr'd her door, 
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield. 
Now guessM a hidden meaning in his arms. 
Now made a pretty history to herself 
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it, 
And every scratch a lance had made upon it. 
Conjecturing when and where : this cut is fresh ; 
That ten years back ; this dealt him at Caerlyle ; 



ELAINE. 101 

That at Caerleon ; this at Camelot : 
And ah, God's mercy, what a stroke was there! 
And here a thrust that might have kill'd, but God 
Broke the strong iance, and roll'd his enemy down, 
And saved him : so she lived in fantasy. 

How came the hiy maid by that good shield 
Of Lancelot, she that knew not ev'n his name? 
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt 
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts, 
Which Arthur had ordain'd, and by that name 
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize. 

For Arthur when none knew from whence he came, 
Long ere the people chose him for their king, 
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse, 
Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn. 
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave 
Like its own mists to all the mountain side : 
For here two brothers, one a king, had met 
And fought together : but their names were lost. 
And each had slain his brother at a blow, 
And down they fell and made the glen abhorr'd : 
And there they lay till all their bones were bleached, 
And lichen'd into color with the crags : 
And he that once was king had on a crown 
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside. 
And Arthur came, and laboring up the pass 
All in a misty moonshine, unawares 
Had trodden that crown'd skeleton and the skull 
Brake from the nap'^. and from the skull the crown 



102 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Roll'd into light, and turning on its rims 

Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn : 

And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught, 

And set it on his head, and in his heart 

Heard murmurs, " Lo, thou likewise shalt be king." 

Thereafter, when a king, he had the gems 
Pluck'd from the crown, and showed them to his 

knights, 
Saying '■'• These jewels, whereupon I chanced 
Divinely, are the kingdom's, not the king's — 
For public use : henceforward let there be. 
Once every year, a joust for one of these : 
For so by nine years' proof we needs must learn 
Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow 
In use of arms and manhood, till we drive 
The Heathen, who, some say, shall rule the land 
Hereafter, which God hinder." Thus he spoke : 
And eight years past, eight jousts had been, and still 
Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year, 
With purpose to present them to the Queen, 
When all were won : but meaning all at once 
To snare her royal fancy with a boon 
Worth half her realm, had never spoken word. 

Now for the central diamond and the last 
And largest, Arthur, holding then his court 
Hard on the river nigh the place which now 
Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust 
At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh 
Spake (for she had been sick) to Guinevere, 



ELAINE. 103 

"Are yow so sick, my Queen, you cannot move 
To these fair jousts ? " " Yea, lord," she said, " you 

know it." 
" Then will you miss," he answer'd, " the great 

deeds 
Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists, 
A sight you love to look on." And the Queen 
Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly 
On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King- 
He thinking that he read her meaning there, 
" Stay with me, I am sick ; my love is more 
Than many diamonds," yielded, and a heart 
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen 
(However much he yearn'd to make complete 
The tale of diamonds for his destined boon) 
Urged him to speak against the truth, and say 
" Sir King, mine ancient wound is hardly whole, 
And lets me from the saddle ; " and the King 
Glanced first at him, then her, and went his way. 
No sooner gone than suddenly she began : 

" To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot much to blame. 
Why go you not to these fair jousts ? the knights 
Are half of them our enemies, and the crowd 
Will murmur, lo the shameless ones, who take 
Their pastime now the trustful king is gone! " 
Then Lancelot, vexed at having lied in vain : 
"" Are you so wise ? you were not once so wise. 
My Queen, that summer, when you loved me first. 
Then of the crowd you took no more account 
Than of the myriad cricket of the mead, 



104 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

When its own voice clings to each blade of grass, 
And every voice is nothing. As to knights, 
Them surely can I silence with all ease. 
But now my loyal worship is allow'd 
Of all men : many a bard, without offence. 
Has link'd our names together in his lay, 
Lancelot, the flower of bravery, Guinevere, 
The pearl of beauty : and our knights at feast 
Have pledged us in this union, while the King 
Would listen smiling. How then ? is there more? 
Has Arthur spoken aught ? or would yourself, 
Now weary of my service and devoir, 
Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord ? " 

She broke into a little scornful laugh. 
" Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless King, 
That passionate perfection, my good lord — 
But who can gaze upon the Sun in heaven? 
He never spake word of reproach to me. 
He never had a glimpse of mine untruth. 
He cares not for me : only here to-day 
There gleam'd a vague suspicion in his eyes : 
Some meddling rogue has tampered with him — else 
Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, 
And swearing men to vows impossible, 
To make them like himself: but, friend, to me 
He is all fault who hath no fault at all : 
For who loves me must have a touch of earth ; 
The low sun makes the color : I am yours, 
Not Arthur's, as you know, save by the bond, 
And therefore hear my words : go to the jousts : 



ELAINE. 105 

The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream 

When sweetest ; and the vermin voices here 

May buzz so loud — we scorn them, but they sting." 

Then answered Lancelot, the chief of knights, 
" And with what face, after my pretext made, 
Shall I appear, O Queen, at Camelot, I 
Before a king who honors his own word, 
As if it were his God's? " 

" Yea," said the Queen, 
" A moral child without the craft to rule. 
Else had he not lost me : but listen to me, 
jf I must find you wit : we hear it said 
That men go down before your spear at a touch 
i3ut knowing you are Lancelot ; your great name, 
This conquers : hide it therefore ; go unknown : 
Win! by this kiss you will : and our true king 
Will then allow your pretext, O my knight, 
As all for glory ; for to speak him true, 
You know right well, how meek so e'er he seem, 
No keener hunter after glory breathes. 
He loves it in his knights more than himself: 
They prove to him his work : win and return." 

Then got Sir Lancelot suddenly to horse, 
Wroth at himself: not willing to be known. 
He left the barren-beaten thoroughfare. 
Chose the green path that showed the rarer foot. 
And there among the solitary downs. 
Full often lost in fancy, lost his way ; 
Till as he traced a faintly-shadow'd track. 



106 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

That all in loops and links among the dales 

Ran to the Castle of Astolat, he saw 

Fired from the west, far on a hill, the towers. 

Thither he made and wound the gate-way horn, 

Then came an old, dumb, myriad-wrinkled man, 

Who let him into lodging and disarmed. 

And Lancelot marvelPd at the wordless man ; 

And issuing found the Lord of Astolat 

With two strong sons, Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, 

Moving to meet him in the castle court ; 

And close behind them stept the lily maid 

Elaine, his daughter : mother of the house 

There was not : some light jest among them rcr,e 

With laughter dying down as the great knight 

Approach'd them : then the lord of Astolat, 

" Whence comest thou, my guest, and by what 

name 
Livest between the lips ? for by thy state 
And presence I might guess thee chief of thos'*. 
After the king, who eat in Arthur's halls. 
Him have I seen : the rest, his Table Round, 
Known as they are, to me they are unknown.'' 

Then answer'd Lancelot, the chief of knights, 
" Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, and known, 
What I by mere mischance have brought, my shield 
But since I go to joust as one unknown 
At Camelot for the diamond, ask me not ; 
Hereafter you shall know me — and the shield ^ — 
I pray you lend me one, if such you have. 
Blank, or at least with some device not mine." 



ELAINE. 107 

Then said the Lord of Astolat, " Here is Torre's : 
Hurt in his first tilt was my son, Sir Torre. 
And, so, God wot, his shield is blank enough. 
His you can have/' Then added plain Sir Torre, 
'^ Yea, since I cannot use it, you may have it." 
Here laugh'd the father, saying, " Fie, Sir Churl, 
Is that an answer for a noble knight ? 
Allow him : but Lavaine my younger here, 
He is so full of lustihood, he will ride 
Joust for it, and win, and bring it in an hour 
And set it in this damsel's golden hair 
To make her thrice as wilful as before." 

" Nay, father, nay, good father, shame me not 
Before this noble knight," said young Lavaine, 
*' For nothing. Surely I but play'd on Torre : 
He seem'd so sullen, vext he could not go : 
A jest, no more : for, knight, the maiden dreamt 
That some one put this diamond in her hand, 
And that it was too slippery to be held. 
And slipt and fell into some pool or stream, . 
The castle-well, belike : and then I said 
That if I went and if I fought and won it 
(But all was jest and joke among ourselves) 
Then must she keep it safelier. All was jest. 
But father give me leave, an if he will, 
To ride to Camelot with this noble knight : 
Win shall I not, but do my best to win : 
Young as I am, yet would I do my best." 

" So you will grace me," answer'd Lancelot, 
Smiling a moment, " with your fellowship 



108 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

O'er these waste downs whereon I lost myself, 

Then were I glad of you as guide and friend ; 

And you shall win this diamond — as I hear, 

It is a fair large diamond — if you may, 

And yield it to this maiden, if you will/'' 

" A fair large diamond," added plain Sir Torre, 

" Such be for Queens and not for simple maids." 

Then she, who held her eyes upon the ground, 

Elaine, and heard her name so tost about, 

Flush'd slightly at the slight disparagement 

Before the stranger knight, who, looking at her, 

Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus returned : 

^' If what is fair be but for what is fair. 

And only Queens are to be counted so. 

Rash were my judgment then, who deem this maid 

Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth. 

Not violating the bond of like to like.'" 

He spoke and ceased : the lily maid Elaine, 
Won by the mellow voice before she looked, 
Lifted her eyes, and read his lineaments. 
The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, 
In battle with the love he bare his lord, 
Had marr'd his face, and marked it ere his time. 
Another sinning on such heights with one, 
The flower of all the west and all the world, 
Had been the sleeker for it : but in him 
His mood was often like a fiend, and rose 
And drove him into wastes and solitudes 
For agony, who was yet a living soul. 
MarrM as he was, he seem'd the goodliest man 



ELAINE. 109 

That ever among ladies ate in Hall, 
And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes. 
However marr'd, of more than twice her years, 
Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the cheek, 
And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes 
And loved him, with that love which was her doom. 

Then the great knight, the darling of the court, 
Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall 
Stept with all grace, and not with half disdain 
Hid under grace, as in a smaller time. 
But kindly man moving among his kind : 
Whom they with meats and vintage of their best 
And talk and minstrel melody entertained. 
And much they ask'd of court and Table Round, 
And ever well and readily answer^ he : 
Eut Lancelot, when they glanced at Guine'^'^ere, 
Suddenly speaking of the wordless man. 
Heard from the Baron that, ten years before, 
The heathen caught and reft him of his tongue, 
*' He learnt and warn'd me of their fierce design 
Against my house, and him they caught and maim'd. 
But I, my sons, and little daughter fled 
From bonds or death, and dwelt among the woods 
By the great river in a boatman's hut. 
jJull days were those, till our good Arthur broke 
The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill.'" 

" O there, good Lord, doubtless," Lavaine s^d, 
rapt 
By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth 



110 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Toward greatness in its elder, " you have fought. 

O tell us ; for we live apart, you know : 

Of Arthur's glorious wars." And Lancelot spoke 

And answered him at full, as having been 

With Arthur in the fight which all day long 

Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem ; 

And in the four wild battles by the shore 

Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war 

That thundered in and out the gloomy skirts 

Of Celidon the forest ; and again 

By castle Gurnion, where the glorious King 

Had on his cuirass worn our Lady's Head, 

Carved of one emerald, centred in a sun 

Of silver rays, that lightened as he breathed-. 

And at Caerleon had he help'd his lord, 

When the strong neighings of the wild white Horse 

Set every gilded parapet shuddering ; 

And up in Agned Cathregonion too, 

And down the waste sand-shores of Trath Treroit, 

Where many a heathen fell ; " and on the mount 

Of Badon I myself beheld the King 

Charge at the head of all his Table Round, 

And all his legions crying Christ and him. 

And break them ; and I saw him, after stand 

High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume 

Red as the rising sun with heathen blood. 

And seeing me, with a great voice he cried, 

'■ They are broken, they are broken,' for the King^ 

However mild he seems at home, nor cares 

For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts — 

For if his own knight cast him down, he laughs 



ELAINE. Ill 

Saying, his knights are better men than he — 
Yet in this heathen war the fire of God 
Fills him ; I never saw his like ; there lives 
No greater leader." 

While he utter'd this, 
Low to her own heart said the lily maid, 
" Save your great self, fair lord ; " and when he 

fell 
From talk of war to traits of pleasantry 
Being mirthful he but in a stately kind — 
She still took note that when the living smile 
Died from his lips, across him came a cloud 
Of melancholy severe, from which again. 
Whenever in her hovering to and fro 
The lily maid had striven to make him cheer, 
There brake a sudden-beaming tenderness 
Of manners and of nature : and she thought 
That all was nature, all, perchance, for her. 
And all night long his face before her lived. 
As when a painter, poring on a face. 
Divinely thro' all hinderance finds the man 
Behind it, and so paints him that his face, 
The shape and color of a mind and life. 
Lives for his children, ever at its best 
And fullest ; so the face before her lived. 
Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full 
Of noble things, and held her from her sleep. 
Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought 
She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. 
First as in fear, step after step, she stole, 
Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating : 



112 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, 
"This shield, my friend, where is it?" and Lavaine 
Past inward, as she came from out the tower. 
There to his proud horse Lancelot turn'd and 

smooth'd 
The glossy shoulder, humming to himself. 
Half-envious of the flattering hand, she drew 
Nearer and stood. He look'd, and more amazed 
Than if seven men had set upon him, saw 
The maiden standing in the dewy light. 
He had not dreamed she was so beautiful. 
Then came on him a sort of sacred fear. 
For silent, tho' he greeted her, she stood 
Rapt on his face as if it were a God's. 
Suddenly flashed on her a wild desire. 
That he should wear her favor at the tilt. 
She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. 
" Fair lord, whose name I know not — noble it is, 
I well believe, the noblest — will you wear 
My favor at this tourney ? " " Nay," said he, 
" Fair lady, since I never yet have worn 
Favor of any lady in the lists. 
Such is my wont, as those, who know me, know." 
" Yea, so," she answered ; " then in wearing mine 
Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord. 
That those who know should know you." And he 

turn'd 
Her counsel up and down within his mind, 
And found it true, and answered, " True, my child. 
Well, I will wear it : fetch it out to me : 
What is it ? " and she told him " a red sleeve 



ELAINE. 115 

Broider'd with pearls," and brought it: then he 

bound 
Her token on his helmet, with a smile 
Saying," I never yet have done so much 
For any maiden living," and the blood 
Sprang to her face, and filPd her with delight ; 
But left her all the paler, when Lavaine 
Returning brought the yet unblazon'd shield, 
His brother's ; which he gave to Lancelot, 
Who parted with his own to fair Elaine ; 
" Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield 
In keeping till I come." " A grace to me." 
She answer'd, " twice to-day. I am your Squire." 
Whereat Lavaine said, laughing, " Lily maid, 
For fear our people call you lily maid 
In earnest, let me bring your color back ; 
Once, twice, and thrice : now get you hence to bed : "' 
So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his own hand. 
And thus they moved away : she stayM a minute, 
Then made a sudden step to the gate, and there — 
Her bright hair blown about the serious face 
Yet rosy-kindled with her brother's kiss — 
Paused in the gateway, standing by the shield 
In silence, while she watch'd their arms far off 
Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs. 
Then to her tower she cHmb'd, and took the shield^ 
There kept it, and so lived in fantasy. 

Meanwhile the new companions past away 
Far o'er the long backs of the bushless downs, 
To where Sir Lancelot knew there lived a knight 



114 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Not far from Camelot, now for forty years 
A hermit, who had pray'd, labored and pray'd 
And ever laboring had scoopM himself 
In the white rock a chapel and a hall 
On massive cohimns, like a shorecliff cave. 
And cells and chambers : all were fair and dry ; 
The green light from the meadows underneath 
Struck up and lived along the milky roofs ; 
And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees 
And poplars made a noise of falHng showers. 
And thither wending there that night they bode. 

But when the next day broke from underground, 
And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave, 
They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode away : 
Then Lancelot saying, " Hear, but hold my name 
Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake." 
Abashed Lavaine, whose instant reverence. 
Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise, 
But left him leave to stammer, " Is it indeed? " 
And after muttering " the great Lancelot " 
At last he got his breath and answer'd, " One, 
One have I seen — that other, our liege lord, 
The dread Pendragon, Briton's king of kings, 
Of whom the people talk mysteriously, 
He will be there — then were I stricken blind 
That minute, I might say that I had seen." 

So spake Lavaine, and when they reached the lists 
By Camelot in the meadow, let his eyes 
Run thro' the peopled gallery which half round 



ELAINE. 115 

Lay Kke a rainbow falPn upon the grass, 
Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat 
Robed in red samite, easily to be known, 
Since to his crown the golden dragon clung, 
And down his robe the dragon writhed in goid, 
And from the carven-work behind him crept 
Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make 
Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them 
Thro' knots and loops and folds innumerable 
Fled ever thro' the woodwork, till they found 
The new design wherein they lost themselves, 
Yet with all ease, so tender was the work : 
And in the costly canopy o'er him set, 
Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king. 

Then Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine and said, 
^' Me you call great ; mine is the firmer seat, 
The truer lance : but there is many a youth 
Now crescent, who will come to all I am 
And overcome it ; and in me there dwells 
No greatness, save it be some far-off touch 
Of greatness to know well I am not great : 
There is the man." And Lavaine gaped upon him 
As on a thing miraculous, and anon 
The trumpets blew ; and then did either side. 
They that assailed, and they that held the lists. 
Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move. 
Meet in the midst, and there so furiously 
Shock, that a man far-off might well perceive. 
If any man that day were left afield, 
The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of arms. 



116 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw 
Which were the weaker : then he hurPd into it 
Against the stronger : little need to speak 
Of Lancelot in his glory : King, duke, earl, 
Count, baron — whom he smote, he overthrew. 

But in the field were Lancelot's kith and kin, 
Ranged with the Table Round that held the lists, 
Strong men, and wrathful that a stranger knight 
Should do and almost overdo the deeds 
Of Lancelot ; and one said to the other, " Lo! 
What is he? I do not mean the force alone. 
The grace and versatility of the man — 
Is it not Lancelot ! ■" " When has Lancelot worn 
Favor of any lady in the lists ? 
Not such his wont, as we, that know him, know." 
* How then ? who then ? " a fury seized on them, 
A fiery family passion for the name 
Of Lancelot, and a glory one with theirs. 
They couched their spears and prick'd their steeds 

and thus, 
Their plumes driven backward by the wind they 

made 
In moving, all together down upon him 
„are, as a wild wave in the wild North sea, 
Green-glimmering towards the summit, bears, with 

all 
Its stormy crests that smote against the skies, 
Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, 
And him that helms it, so they overbore 
Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear 



ELAINE. 117 

Down-glancing lamed the charger, and a spear 
Prick'd sharply his own cuirass, and the head 
Pierced thro' his side, and there snapt and remained. 

Then Sir Lavaine did well and worshipfully ; 
He bore a knight of old repute to the earth, 
And brought his horse to Lancelot where he lay. 
He up the side, sweating with agony, got. 
But thought to do while he might yet endure 
And being lustily holpen by the rest. 
His party, — tho' it seemed half-miracle 
To those he fought with — drave his kith and kin, 
And all the Table Round that held the lists. 
Back to the barrier ; then the heralds blew 
Proclaiming his the prize, who wore the sleeve 
Of scarlet, and the pearls ; and all the knights. 
His party, cried " Advance, and take your prize 
The diamond ; " but he answered, " Diamond me 
No diamonds! for God's love, a little air! 
Prize me no prizes, for my prize is death ! 
Hence will I and I charge you, follow me not." 

He spoke, and vanished suddenly from the field 
With young Lavaine into the poplar grove. 
There from his charger down he slid, and sat, 
Gasping to Sir Lavaine, " Draw the lance-head : " 
" Ah, my sweet lord. Sir Lancelot," said Lavaine, 
" I dread me, if I draw it, you will die." 
But he, ** I die already with it ; draw — 
Draw " — and Lavaine drew, and that other gave 
A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan, 



118 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And half his blood burst forth, and down he sank 
For the pure pain, and wholly swoonM away. 
Then came the hermit out and bare him in, 
There stanch'd his wound ; and there, in daily doubt 
Whether to live or die, for many a week 
Hid from the wide world's rumor by the grove 
Of poplars with their noise of falling showers. 
And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he lay. 

But on that day when Lancelot fled the lists, 
His party, knights of utmost North and West, 
Lords of waste marches, kings of desolate isles. 
Came round their great Pendragon, saying to him, 
" Lo, Sire, our knight thro' whom we won the day 
Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left his prize 
Untaken, crying that his prize is death."" 
" Heaven hinder," said the King, " that such an one, 
So great a knight as we have seen to-day — 
He seem'd to me another Lancelot — 
Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot — 
He must not pass uncared for. Gawain, rise, 
My nephew, and ride forth and find the knight. 
Wounded and wearied, needs must he be near. 
I charge you that you get at once to horse. 
And, knights and kings, there breathes not one of 

you 
Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given : 
His prowess was too wondrous. We will do him 
No customary honor : since the knight 
Came not to us, of us to claim the prize, 
Ourselves will send it after. Wherefore take 



ELAINE, 119 

This diamond, and deliver it, and return, 
And bring us what he is and how he fares, 
And cease not from your quest, until you find." 

So saying, from the carven flower above, 
To which it made a restless heart, he took. 
And gave, the diamond : then from where he sat 
At Arthur's right, with smiling face arose. 
With smiling face and frowning heart, a Prince 
In the mid might and flourish of his May, 
Gawain, surnamed the Courteous, fair and strong. 
And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Geraint 
And Lamorack, a good knight, but therewithal 
Sir Modred's brother, of a crafty house. 
Nor often loyal to his word, and now 
Wroth that the King's command to sally forth 
In quest of him he knew not, made him leave 
The banquet, and concourse of knights and kings. 

So all in wrath he got to horse and went ; 
While Arthur to the banquet, dark in mood. 
Past, thinking, " Is it Lancelot who has come 
Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain 
Of glory, and has added wound to wound. 
And ridd'n away to die ? " So fear'd the King. 
And, after two days' tarriance there, return'd. 
Then when he saw the Queen, embracing, ask'd 
"Love, are you yet so sick?" "Nay, Lord," she 

said. 
"And where is Lancelot.?" Then the Queen, 
amazed, 



120 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

*Was he not with you? won he not your prize?" 
<' Nay, but one Hke him." '' Why that like was he." 
And when the King demanded how she knew, 
Said, " Lord, no sooner had you parted from us, 
Than Lancelot told me of a common talk 
That men went down before his spear at a touch, 
But knowing he was Lancelot ; his great name 
Conquered ; and therefore would he hide his name 
From all men, e'en the King, and to this end 
Had made the pretext of a hindering wound. 
That he might joust unknown of all, and learn 
If his old prowess were in aught decayed : 
And added, ' Our true Arthur, when he learns, 
Will well allow my pretext, as for gain 
Of purer glory. ■" " 

Then replied the King : 
" Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been, 
In lieu of idly dallying with the truth. 
To have trusted me as he has trusted you. 
Surely his King and most familiar friend 
Might well have kept his secret. True ; indeed, 
Albeit I know my knights fantastical. 
So fine a fear in our large Lancelot 
Must needs have moved my laughter : now remains 
But little cause for laughter : his own kin — 
111 news, my Queen, for all who love him, these! 
His kith and kin, not knowing, set upon him ; 
So that he went sore wounded from the field : 
Yet good news too : for goodly hopes are mine 
That Lancelot is no more a lonely heart. 
He wore, against his wont, upon his helm 



ELAINE. 121 

A sleeve of scarlet, broidered with great pearls, 
Some gentle maiden's gift." 

'' Yea, lord," she said, 
^ Your hopes are mine," and saying that she choked, 
And sharply turned about to hide her face, 
Moved to her chamber, and there flung herself 
Down on the great King's couch, and writhed upon 

it, 
And clench'd her fingers till they bit the palm, 
And shriek'd out " traitor " to the unhearing wall, 
Then flash'd into wild tears, and rose again, 
And moved about her palace, proud and pale. 

Gawain the while thro' all the region round 
Rode with his diamond, wearied of the quest, 
Touch'd at all points, except the poplar grove, 
And came at last, tho' late, to Astolat : 
Whom glittering in enamell'd arms the maid 
Glanced at, and cried, "What news from Camelot, 

lord? 
What of the knight with the red sleeve?" "He 

won." 
*<I knew it," she said. "But parted from the 

jousts 
Hurt in the side," whereat she caught her breath. 
Thro' her own side she felt the sharp lance go ; 
Thereon she smote her hand : well-nigh she 

swoon'd : 
And while he gazed wonderingly at her, came 
The lord of Astolat out, to whom the Prince 
Reported who he was, and on what quest 



122 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Sent, that he bore the prize and could not find 

The victor, but had ridden wildly round 

To seek him, and was wearied of the search. 

To whom the lord of Astolat, " Bide with us, 

And ride no longer wildly, noble Prince. 

Here was the knight, and here he left a shield.; 

This will he send or come for : furthermore 

Our son is with him ; we shall hear anon, 

Needs must we hear." To this the courteous 

Prince 
Accorded with his wonted courtesy, 
Courtesy with a touch of traitor in it, 
And stay'd ; and cast his eyes on fair Elaine : 
Where could be found face daintier? then bee 

shape 
From forehead down to foot perfect — again 
From foot to forehead exquisitely turn'd : 
" Well — if I bide, lo ! this wild flower for me ! " 
And oft they met among the garden yews, 
And there he set himself to play upon her 
With sallying wit, free flashes from a height 
Above her, graces of the court, and songs, 
Sighs, and slow smiles, and golden eloquence 
And amorous adulation, till the maid 
Rebeird against it, saying to him, " Prince, 
O loyal nephew of our noble King, 
Why ask you not to see the shield he left, 
Whence you might learn his name ? Why slight 

your King, 
And lose the quest he sent you on. and prove 
No surer than our falcon yesterday, 



ELAINE. 1-3 

Who lost the hern we slipt him at, and went 

To all the winds?" "Nay, by mine head," said 

he, 
^' I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven, 

damsel, in the light of your blue eyes ; 
But an you will it let me see the shield." 

And when the shield was brought, and Gawain'saw 
Sir Lancelot's azure lions, crowned with gold, 
Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh and mock'd : 
" Right was the King ! our Lancelot ! that true 

man ! " 
^' And right was I," she answered merrily, " I, 
Who dream'd my knight the greatest knight of 

all." 
" And if /dream'd," said Gawain, " that you love 
This greatest knight, your pardon! lo, you know 

it! 
Speak therefore : shall I waste myself in vain ? " 
Full simple was her answer : " What know I ? 
My brethren have been all my fellowship, 
And I, when often they have talk'd of love, 
Wish'd it had been my mother, for they talked, 
Meseem'd, of what they knew not; so myself — 

1 know not if I know what true love is. 
But if I know, then, if 1 love not him, 
Methinks there is none other I can love," 

"Yea, by God's death," said he, "you love him 

well. 
But would not, knew you what all others know, 
And whom he loves." " So be it," cried Elaine, 
And lifted her fair face and moved away : 



124 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

But he pursued her calHng, " Stay a little ! 

One golden minute's grace : he wore your sleeve : 

Would he break faith with one I may not name? 

Must our true man change like a leaf at last ? 

May it be so ? why then, far be it from me 

To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves ! 

And, damsel, for I deem you know full well 

Where your great knight is hidden, let me leave 

My quest with you : the diamond also, here! 

For if you love, it will be sweet to give it ; 

And if he love, it will be sweet to have it 

From your own hand ; and whether he loves or 

not, 
A diamond is a diamond. Fare you well 
A thousand times! — a thousand times farewell! 
Yet, if he love, and his love hold, we two 
May meet at court hereafter : there, I think, 
So you will learn the courtesies of the court, 
We two shall know each other." 

Then he gave, 
And slightly kissM the hand to which he gave. 
The diamond, and all wearied of the quest 
Leapt on his horse, and carolling as he went 
A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. 

Thence to the court he past ; there told the 
King 
What the King knew, "Sir Lancelot is the knight." 
And added, " Sire, my liege, so much I learnt; 
But faird to find him tho' I rode all round 
The region : but I lighted on the maid, 



ELAINE. 125 

Whose Sleeve he wore ; she loves him ; and to her, 

Deeming our courtesy is the truest law, 

I gave the diamond : she will render it ; 

For by mine head she knows his hiding place." 

The seldom-frowning King frown'd, and replied, 
" Too courteous truly! you shall go no more 
On quest of mine, seeing that you forget 
Obedience is the courtesy due to kings." 

He spake and parted. Wroth but all in awe, 
i*^or twenty strokes of the blood, without a word, 
Linger'd that other, staring after him ; 
Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd abroad 
About the maid of Astolat, and her love. 
All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were 

loosed : 
" The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, 
Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat." 
Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, and 

all 
Had marvel what the maid might be, but most 
Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old dame 
Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp news. 
She, that had heard the noise of it before. 
But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop'd so low, 
Marr'd her friend's point with pale tranquillity. 
So ran the tale like fire about the court. 
Fire in dry stubble a nine days' wonder flared : 
Till ev'n the knights at banquet twice or thrice 
Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen, 



126 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid 
Smiled at each other, while the Queen who sat 
With lips severely placid felt the knot 
Climb in her throat, and with her feet unseen 
Crush'd the wild passion out against the floor 
Beneath the banquet, where the meats became 
As wormwood, and she hated all who pledged. 

But far away the maid in Astolat, 
Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept 
The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her heart, 
Crept to her father, while he mused alone, 
Sat on his knee, stroked his gray face and said, 
" Father, you call me wilful, and the fault 
Is yours who let me have my will, and now, 
Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits? " 
" Nay," said he, " surely." " Wherefore let me 

hence," 
She answered " and find out our dear Lavaine." 
" You will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine : 
Bide," answer'd he : " we needs must hear anon 
Of him, and of that other." " Ay," she said, 
" And of that other, for I needs must hence 
And find that other, wheresoever he be. 
And with mine own hand give his diamond to him, 
Lest I be found as faithless in the quest 
As yon proud Prince who left the quest to me. 
Sweet father, I behold him in my dreams 
Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself, 
Death-pale, for lack of gentle maiden's aid. 
The gentler-born the maiden, the more bouncj. 



ELAINE. 127 

My father, to be sweet and serviceable 
To noble knights in sickness, as you know, 
When these have worn their tokens : let me hence, 
I pray you." Then her father nodding said, 
"Ay, ay, the diamond : wit you well, my child, 
Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole. 
Being our greatest : yea, and you must give it — 
And sure I think this fruit is hung too high 
For any mouth to gape for save a Queen's — 
Nay, I mean nothing : so then, get you gone. 
Being so very wilful you must go." 

Lightly, her suit allowed, she slipt away, 
And while she made her ready for her ride, 
Her father's latest word humm'd in her ear, 
" Being so very wilful you must go," 
And changed itself and echoed in her heart, 
"Being so very wilful you must die." 
But she was happy enough and shook it off, 
As we shake off the bee that buzzes at us ; 
And in her heart she answer'd it and said, 
" What matter, so I help him back to life ? " 
Then far away with good Sir Torre for guide 
Rode o'er the long backs of the bushless downs 
To Camelot, and before the city-gates 
Came on her brother with a happy face 
Making a roan horse caper and curvet 
For pleasure all about a field of flowers : 
Whom when she saw, " Lavaine," she cried, " La- 

vaine. 
How fares my lord Sir Lancelot ? " He amazed, 



128 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

'• Torre and Elaine! why here? Sir Lancelot! 

How know you my lord's name is Lancelot?" 

But when the maid had told him all her tale, 

Then turn'd Sir Torre, and being in his mood:; 

Left them, and under the strange-statued gate, 

Where Arthur's wars were rendered mystically, 

Past up the still rich city to his kin, 

His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot ; 

And her Lavaine across the poplar grove 

Led to the caves : there first she saw the casque 

Of Lancelot on the wall : her scarlet sleeve, 

Tho' carved and cut, and half the pearls away, 

Streamed from it still ; and in her heart she laugh'd, 

Because he had not loosed it from his helm, 

But meant once more perchance to tourney in it. 

And when they gain'd the cell in which he slept. 

His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands 

Lay naked on the wolfskin, and a dream 

Of dragging down his enemy made them move. 

Then she that saw him lying unsleek, unshorn, 

Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself, 

Utter'd a little tender dolorous cry. 

The sound not wonted in a place so still 

Woke the sick knight, and while he rolPd his eyes 

Yet blank from sleep, she started to him, saying, 

" Your prize the diamond sent you by the King : " 

His eyes glisten'd : she fancied " is it for me? " 

And when the maid had told him all the tale 

Of King and Prince, the diamond sent, the quest 

Assign'd to her not worthy of it, she knelt 

Full lowly by the corners of his bed. 



ELAINE. ^^Q 

And laid the diamond in his open hand. 

Her face was near, and as we kiss the child 

That does the task assign'd, he kissM her face. 

At once she slipt like water to the floor. 

" Alas," he said, " your ride has wearied you 

Rest must you have." "No rest for me," she said: 

•' Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest." 

What might she mean by that? his large black 

eyes, 
Yet larger thro' his leanness, dwelt upon her. 
Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself 
In the heart's colors on her simple face ; 
And Lancelot look'd and was perplext in mind, 
And being weak in body said no more ; 
But did not love the color ; woman's love 
Save one, he not regarded, and so turn'd 
Sighing, and feign'd a sleep until he slept. 

Then rose Elaine and glided thro' the fields, 
And past beneath the wildly-sculptured gates 
Far up the dim rich city to her kin ; 
There bode the night : but woke with dawn, and 

past 
Down thro' the dim rich city to the fields, 
Thence to the cave : so day by day she past 
In either twilight ghost-like to and fro 
Gliding, and every day she tended him, 
And likewise many a night : and Lancelot 
Would, tho' he call'd his wound a little hurt 
Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times 
Brain-feverous in his heat and agony seem 



130 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Uncourteous, even he : but the meek maid 
Sweetly forebore him ever, being to him 
Meeker than any child to a rough nurse, 
Milder than any mother to a sick child, 
And never woman yet, since man's first fall^ 
Did kindlier unto man, but her deep love 
Upbore her ; till the hermit, skilPd in all 
The simples and the science of that time, 
Told him that her fine care had saved his life. 
And the sick man forgot her simple blush, 
Would call her friend and sister, sweet Elaine-,. 
Would listen for her coming and regret 
Her parting step, and held her tenderly 
And loved her with all love except the love 
Of man and woman when they love their best 
Closest and sweetest, and had died the death 
In any knightly fashion for her sake. 
And peradventure had he seen her first 
She might have made this and that other world 
Another world for the sick man ; but now 
The shackles of an old love straitened him, 
His honor rooted in dishonor stood. 
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. 

Yet the great knight in his mid-sickness made 
Full many a holy vow and pure resolve. 
These, as but born of sickness, could not live : 
For when the blood ran lustier in him again, 
Full often the sweet image of one face. 
Making a treacherous quiet in his heart, 
Dispersed his resolution like a cloud. 



ELAINE. 131 

Then if the maiden, while that ghostly grace 
Beamed on his fancy, spoke, he answer'd not, 
Or short and coldly, and she knew right well 
What the rough sickness meant, but what this 

meant 
She knew not, and the sorrow dimmed her sight. 
And drave her ere her time across the fields 
Far into the rich city, where alone 
She murmur'd, " Vain, in vain : it cannot be. 
He will not love me : how then? must I die?" 
Then as a little helpless innocent bird. 
That has but one plain passage of few notes^ 
Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er 
For all an April morning, till the ear 
Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid 
Went half the night repeating, " Must I die ? " 
And now to right she turn'd, and now to left, 
And found no ease in turning or in rest ; 
And " him or death " she mutter'd " death or him^"' 
Again and like a burthen, " him or death." 

But when Sir Lancelot's deadly hurt was whole, 
To Astolat returning rode the three. 
There morn by morn, arraying her sweet self 
In that wherein she deem'd she look'd her best, 
She came before Sir Lancelot, for she thought 
" If I be loved, these are my festal robes. 
If not, the victim's flowers before he fall." 
And Lancelot ever prest upon the maid 
That she should ask some goodly gift of him 
For her own self or hers ; " and do not shun 



132 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

To speak the wish most near to your true heart \ 

Such service have you done me, tiiat I make 

My will of yours, and Prince and Lord am I 

In mine own land, and what I will I can." 

Then like a ghost she lifted up her face. 

But like a ghost without the power to speak. 

And Lancelot saw that she withheld her wish, 

And bode among them yet a little space, 

Till he should learn it ; and one morn it chanced 

He found her in among the garden yews. 

And said, " Delay no longer, speak your wish. 

Seeing I must go to-day : " then out she brake ; 

" Going? and we shall never see you more. 

And I must die for want of one bold word." 

" Speak : that I live to hear," he said, " is yours." 

Then suddenly and passionately she spoke : 

"I have gone mad. I love you : let me die." 

"Ah sister," answered Lancelot, "what is this?" 

And innocently extending her white arms, 

*'Your love," she said, "your love — to be your 

wife." 
And Lancelot answer'd, " Had I chos'n to wed, 
I had been wedded earlier, sweet Elaine : 
But now there never will be wife of mine." 
"No, no," she cried, "I care not to be wife. 
But to be with you still, to see your face, 
To serve you, and to follow you thro' the world." 
And Lancelot answer'd, " Nay, the world, the world, 
All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart 
To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue 
To blare its own interpretation — nay, 



ELAINE. 133 

Full ill then should I quit your brother's love, 
And your good father's kindness." And she said, 
" Not to be with you, not to see your face, 
Alas for me then, my good days are done." 
"Nay, noble maid," he answer'd, " ten times nay ! 
This is not love : but love's first flash in youth, 
Most common : yea, I know it of mine own self; 
And you yourself will smile at your own self 
Hereafter, when you yield your flower of life 
To one more fitly yours, not thrice your age ; 
And then will I, for true you are and sweet 
Beyond mine old belief in womanhood, 
More specially should your good knight be poor, 
Endow you with broad land and territory 
Even to the half my realm beyond the seas, 
So that would make you happy ; furthermore, 
Ev'n to the death, as tho' you were my blood. 
In all your quarrels will I be your knight. 
This will I do, dear damsel, for your sake, 
And more than this I cannot." While he spoke 
She neither blush'd nor shook, but deathly pale 
Stood grasping what was nearest, then replied, 
" Of all this will I nothing ; " and so fell. 
And thus they bore her swooning to her tower. 

Then spake, to whom thro' those black walls of 
yew 
Their talk had pierced, her father, " Ay, a flash, 
I fear me, that will strike my blossom dead. 
Too courteous are you, fair Lord Lancelot. 
I pray you, use some rough discourtesy 



134 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

To blunt or break her passion.'" Lancelot said, 
" That were against me ; what I can I will." 
And there that day remained, and toward even 
Sent for his shield : full meekly rose the maid, 
Stript off the case, and gave the naked shield ; 
Then, when she heard his horse upon the stones, 
Unclasping flung the casement back, and look'd 
Down on his helm, from which her sleeve had 

gone. 
And Lancelot knew the little clinking sound : 
And she by tact of love was well aware 
That Lancelot knew that she was looking at him. 
And yet he glanced not up, nor waved his hand. 
Nor bade farewell, but sadly rode away. 
This was the one discourtesy that he used. 

So in her tower alone the maiden sat : 
His very shield was gone : only the case, 
Her own poor work, her empty labor, left. 
But still she heard him, still his picture form'd 
And grew between her and the pictured wall. 
Then came her father, saying in low tones, 
" Have comfort," whom she greeted quietly. 
Then came her brethren saying, " Peace to thee, 
Sweet sister," whom she answer'd with all calm. 
But when they left her to herself again. 
Death, like a friend's voice from a distant field 
Approaching thro' the darkness, called ; the owls 
Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt 
Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms 
Of evening, and the moanings of the wind. 



ELAINE. 135 

And in those days she made a little song, 
And caird her song " The Song of Love and Death," 
And sang it : sweetly could she make and sing. 

" Sweet is true love, tho' given in vain, in vain ; 
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain ; 
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 



" Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be : 
Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me. 

Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. 

" Sweet Love, that seems not made to fade away, 
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay, 

1 know not which is sweeter, no, not L 

" I fain would follow love, if that could be : 
I needs must follow death, who calls for me ; 
I follow ! let me die." 

High with the last line scaled her voice, and this. 
All in a fiery dawning wild with wind 
That shook her tower, the brothers heard, and 

thought 
With shuddering, " Hark the Phantom of the house 
That ever shrieks before a death," and calPd 
The father, and all three in hurry and fear 
Ran to her, and lo ! the blood-red light of dawn 
Flared on her face, she shrillino: " Let me die! " 



136 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

As when we dwell upon a word we know. 
Repeating, till the word we know so well 
Becomes a wonder and we know not why, 
So dwelt the father on her face and thought 
'' Is this Elaine? " till back the maiden fell, 
Then gave a languid hand to each, and lay, 
Speaking a still good-morrow with her eyes. 
At last she said, " Sweet brothers, yesternight 
I seem'd a curious little maid again, 
As happy as when we dwelt among the woods., 
And when you used to take me with the flood 
Up the great river in the boatman's boat. 
Only you would not pass beyond the cape 
That has the poplar on it : there you fixt 
Your limit, oft returning with the tide. 
And yet I cried because you would not pass 
Beyond it, and far up the shining flood 
Until we found the palace of the King. 
And yet you would not ; but this night I dream'd 
That I was all alone upon the flood. 
And then I said, ' Now shall I have my will : ' 
And there I woke, but still the wish remained. 
So let me hence that I may pass at last 
Beyond the poplar and far up the flood, 
Until I find the palace of the King. 
There will I enter in among them all, 
And no man there will dare to mock at me ; 
But there the fine Gawain will wonder at me, 
And there the great Sir Lancelot muse at me ; 
Gawain, who bade a thousand farewells to me, 
Lancelot, who coldly went nor bade me one ; 



ELAINE. 137 

And there the King will know me and my love, 
And there the Queen herself will pity me, 
And all the gentle court will welcome me, 
And after my long voyage I shall rest ! " 

" Peace," said her father, " O my child, you seem 
Light-headed, for what force is yours to go. 
So far, being sick ? and wherefore would you look 
On this proud fellow again, who scorns us all?" 

Then the rough Torre began to heave and move, 
.A-nd bluster into stormy sobs and say, 
" I never loved him : an I meet with him, 
I care not howsoever great he be, 
Then will I strike at him and strike him down. 
Give me good fortune, I will strike him dead, 
For this discomfort he hath done the house." 

To which the gentle sister made reply, 
" Fret not yourself, dear brother, nor be wroth, 
Seeing it is no more Sir Lancelot's fault 
Not to love me, than is it mine to love 
Him of all men who seems to me the highest." 

" Highest? " the Father answered, echoing "high- 
est." 
(He meant to break the passion in her.) " Nay, 
Daughter, I know not what you call the highest ; 
But this I know, for all the people know it. 
He loves the Queen, and in an open shame : 
And she returns his love in open shame. 
If this be high, what is it to be low? " 



138 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then spake the lily maid of Astolat : 
" Sweet father, all too faint and sick am I 
For anger : these are slanders : never yet 
Was noble man but made ignoble talk. 
He makes no friend who never made a foe. 
But now it is my glory to liave loved 
One peerless, without stain : so let me pass, 
My father, howsoever I seem to you. 
Not all unhappy, having loved God's best 
And greatest, tho' my love had no return : 
Yet, seeing you desire your child to live. 
Thanks, but you work against your own desire ; 
For if I could believe the things you say 
I should but die the sooner : wherefore cease, 
Sweet father, and bid call the ghostly man 
Hither, and let me shrive me clean, and die." 

So when the ghostly man had come and gone, 
She with a face, bright as for sin forgiven. 
Besought Lavaine to write as she devised 
A letter, word for word ; and when he ask'd 
" Is it for Lancelot, is it for my dear lord? 
Then will I bear it gladly ; " she replied, 
" For Lancelot and the Queen and all the world, 
But I myself must bear it.'' Then he wrote 
The letter she devised; which being writ 
And folded, " O sweet father, tender and true, 
Deny me not," she said — " you never yet 
Denied my fancies — this, however strange, 
My latest : lay the letter in my hand 
A little ere I die, and close the hand 



ELAINE. 139 

Upon it ; I shall guard it even in death, 

And when the heat is gone from out my heart, 

Then take the little bed on which I died 

For Lancelot's love, and deck it like the Queen's 

For richness, and me also like the Queen 

In all I have of rich, and lay me on it. 

And let there be prepared a chariot-bier 

To take me to the river, and a barge 

Be ready on the river, clothed in black. 

I go in state to court, to meet the Queen. 

There surely I shall speak for mine own self, 

And none of you can speak for me so well. 

And therefore let our dumb old man alone 

Go with me, he can steer and row, and he 

Will guide me to that palace, to the doors." 

She ceased : her father promised ; whereupon 
She grew so cheerful that they deem'd her death 
Was rather in the fantasy than the blood. 
But ten slow mornings past, and on the eleventh 
Her father laid the letter in her hand. 
And closed the hand upon it, and she died. 
So that day there was dole in Astolat. 

But when the next sun brake from underground, 
Then, those two brethren slowly with bent brows 
Accompanying, the sad chariot-bier 
Past like a shadow thro' the field, that shone 
Full-summer, to that stream whereon the barge,, 
Paird all its length in blackest samite, lay. 
There sat the lifelong creature of the house,, 



140 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Loyal, the dumb old servitor^ on deck 
Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face. 
So those two brethren from the chariot took 
And on the black decks laid her in her bed, 
Set in her hand a lily, o'tx her hung 
The silken case with braided blazonings, 
And kiss'd her quiet brows, and saying to her, 
" Sister, farewell forever," and again, 
"Farewell, sweet sister," parted all in tears. 
Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead 
Steer'd by the dumb went upward with the flood. 
In her right hand the lily, in her left 
The letter — all her bright hair streaming down- 
And all the coverlid was cloth of gold 
Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white 
All but her face, and that clear-featured face 
Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead 
But fast asleep, and lay as tho' she smiled. 

That day Sir Lancelot at the palace craved 
Audience of Guinevere, to give at last 
The price of half a realm, his costly gift, 
Hard-won and hardly won with bruise and blow, 
With deaths of others, and almost his own, 
The nine-years-fought-for diamonds : for he saw 
One of her house, and sent him to the Queen 
Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen agreed 
With such and so unmoved a majesty 
She might have seem'd her statue, but that he, 
Low-drooping till he wellnigh kiss'd her feet 
For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong eye 



ELAINE. 141 

The shadow of a piece of pointed lace, 

In the Queen's shadow, vibrate on the walls, 

And parted, laughing in his courtly heart. 

All in an oriel on the summer side. 
Vine-clad, of Arthur's palace toward the stream, 
They met, and Lancelot kneeling utter'd " Queen, 
Lady, my liege, in whom I have my joy, 
Take, what I had not won except for you. 
These jewels, and make me happy, making them 
An armlet for the roundest arm on earth. 
Or necklace for a neck to which the swan's 
Is tawnier than her cygnet's : these are words : 
Your beauty is your beauty, and I sin 
In speaking, yet O grant my worship of it 
Words, as we grant grief tears. Such sin in words 
Perchance, we both can pardon : but, my Queen, 
I hear of rumors flying thro' your court. 
Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife, 
Should have in it an absoluter trust 
To make up that defect : let rumors be : 
When did not nnriors fly? these, as I trust 
That you trust me in your own nobleness, 
I may not well believe that you believe." 

While thus he spoke, half turned away, the Queen 
Brake from the vast oriel-embowering vine 
Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast them off", 
Till all the place whereon she stood was green ; 
Then, when he ceased, in one cold passive hand 
Received at once and laid aside the gems 
There on a table near her, and replied : 



142 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

" It may be, I am quicker of belief 
Than you believe me, Lancelot of the Lake. 
Our bond is not the bond of man and wife. 
This good is in it, whatsoe'er of ill. 
It can be broken easier, I for you 
This many a year have done despite and wrong 
To one whom ever in my heart of hearts 
I did acknowledge nobler. What are these ? 
Diamonds for me ! they had been thrice their worth 
Being your gift, had you not lost your own. 
To loyal hearts the value of all gifts 
Must vary as the giver's. Not for me! 
For her! for your new fancy. Only this 
Grant me, I pray you : have your joys apart. 
I doubt not that however changed, you keep 
So much of what is graceful : and myself 
Would shun to break those bounds of courtesy 
In which as Arthur's queen I move and rule ; 
So cannot speak my mind. An end to this! 
A strange one! yet I take it with Amen. 
So pray you, add my diamonds to her pearls ; 
Deck her with these ; tell her, she shines me down : 
An armlet for an arm to which the Queen's 
Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck 
O as much fairer — as a faith once fair 
Was richer than these diamonds — hers not mine — 
Nay, by the mother of our Lord himself. 
Or hers or mine, mine now to work my will — 
She shall not have them." 

Saying which she seized. 
And thro' the casement standing wide for heat. 



ELAINE. 1-13 

Flung them, and down they flashed, and smote the 

stream. 
Then from the smitten surface flash'd as it were, 
Diamonds to meet them, and they past away. 
Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disgust 
At love, life, all things, on the window ledge, 
Close underneath his eyes, and right across 
Where these had fallen, slowly past the barge 
Whereon the lily maid of Astolat 
Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night. 

But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away 
To weep and wail in secret ; and the barge 
On to the palace-doorway sliding, paused. 
There two stood arm'd, and kept the door : to whom, 
All up the marble stair, tier over tier, 
Were added mouths that gaped, and eyes that ask'd 
" What is it ? " but that oarsman's haggard face. 
As hard and still as is the face that men 
Shape to their fancy's eye from broken rocks 
On some clilf-side, appalPd them, and they said, 
■" He is enchanted, cannot speak — and she. 
Look how she sleeps — the Fairy Queen, so fair! 
Yea, but how pale! what are they? flesh and blood? 
Or come to take the King to fairy land ? 
For some do hold our Arthur cannot die. 
But that he passes into fairy land." 

While thus they babbled of the King, the King 
Came girt with knights : then turn'd the tongueless 



144 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

From the half-face to the full eye, and rose 

And pointed to the damsel, and the doors. 

So Arthur bade the meek Sir Percivale 

And pure Sir Galahad to uplift the maid ; 

And reverently they bore her into hall. 

Then came the fine Gawain, and wondered at her, 

And Lancelot later came and mused at her, 

At last the Queen herself and pitied her : 

But Arthur spied the letter in her hand, 

Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it ; this was all 

" Most noble lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake, 
I, sometime call'd the maid of Astolat, 
Come, for you left me taking no farewell, 
Hither, to take my last farewell of you. 
I loved you, and my love had no return. 
And therefore my true love has been my death. 
And therefore to our lady Guinevere, 
And to all other ladies, I make moan. 
Pray for my soul, and yield me burial. 
Pray for my soul, thou too. Sir Lancelot, 
As thou art a knight peerless." 

Thus he read. 
And ever in the reading lords and dames 
Wept, looking often from his face who read 
To hers which lay so silent, and at times. 
So touch'd were they, half-thinking that her lips. 
Who had devised the letter, moved again. 

Then freely spoke Sir Lancelot to them all : 
** My lord liege Arthur, and all ye that hear, 



ELAINE. 145 

Know that for this most gentle maiden's death 
Right heavy am I : for good she was and true, 
But loved me with a love beyond all love 
In women, whomsoever I have known. 
Yet to be loved makes not to love again ; 
Not at my years, however it hold in youth. 
I swear by truth and knighthood that I gave 
No cause, not willingly, for such a love : 
To this I call my friends in testimony. 
Her brethren, and her father, who himself 
Besought me to be plain and blunt, and use, 
To break her passion, some discourtesy 
Against my nature : what I could, I did. 
I left her and I bade her no farewell. 
Tho' had I dreamt the damsel would have died, 
I might have put my wits to some rough use, 
And helped her from herself." 

Then said the Queen 
(Sea was her wrath, yet working after storm), 
*' You might at least have done her so much grace, 
Fair lord, as would have help'd her from her 

death.'' 
He raised his head, their eyes met and hers fell, 
He adding, 

^' Queen, she would not be content 
Save that I wedded her, which could not be. 
Then might she follow me thro' the world, she 

ask'd ; 
It could not be. I told her that her love 
Was but the flash of youth, would darken down 
To rise hereafter in a stiller flame 



146 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Toward one more worthy of her — then would I» 
More specially were he, she wedded, poor, 
Estate them with large land and territory 
In mine own realm beyond the narrow seas, 
To keep them in all joyance : more than this 
I could not : this she would not, and she died." 

He pausing, Arthur answerV-. ''O my knight, 
It will be to your worship as my knight, 
And mine, as head of all our Table Round, 
To see that she be buried worshipfully." 

So toward that shrine which then in all the realm 
Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly went 
The marshaird order of their Table Round, 
And Lancelot sad beyond his wont, to see 
The maiden buried, not as one unknown. 
Nor meanly, but with gorgeous obsequies. 
And mass, and rolling music, like a Queen. 
And when the knights had laid her comely head 
Low in the dust of half-forgotten kings, 
Then Arthur spake among them, " Let her tomb 
Be costly, and her image thereupon. 
And let the shield of Lancelot at her feet 
Be carven, and her lily in her hand. 
And let the story of her dolorous voyage 
For all true hearts be blazon'd on her tomb 
In letters gold and azure! " which was wrought 
Thereafter ; but when now the lords and dames 
And people, from the high door, streaming, break 
Disorderly, as homeward each, the Queen, 



ELAINE. 147 

Who marked Sir Lancelot where he moved apart, 
Drew near, and sigh'd in passing, " Lancelot, 
Forgive me ; mine was jealousy in love." 
He answer^ with his eyes upon the ground, 
^* That is love's curse ; pass on, my Queen, forgiven." 
But Arthur who beheld his cloudy brows 
Approach'd him, and with full affection flung 
One arm about his neck, and spake and said : 

'' Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in whom I have 
Most joy and most affiance, for I know 
What thou hast been in battle by my side. 
And many a time have watched thee at the tilt 
Strike down the lusty and long-practised knight, 
And let the younger and unskilled go by 
To win his honor and to make his name. 
And loved thy courtesies and thee, a man 
Made to be loved ; — but now I would to God, 
For the wild people say wild things of thee, 
Thou couldst have loved this maiden, shaped, it 

seems, 
By God for thee alone, and from her face. 
If one may judge the living by the dead, 
Delicately pure and marvellously fair, 
Who might have brought thee, now a lonely man 
Wifeless and heirless, noble issue, sons 
Born to the glory of thy name and fame. 
My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of the Lake." 

Then answered Lancelot, " Fair she was, my King, 
Pure, as you ever wish your knights to be. 



148 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

To doubt her fairness were to want an eye, 
To doubt her pureness were to want a heart, — 
Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy love 
Could bind him, but free love will not be bound/' 

" Free love, so bound, were freest," said the King. 
*"' Let love be free ; free love is for the best : 
And, after heaven, on our dull side of death, 
What should be best, if not so pure a love 
Clothed in so pure a loveliness? yet thee 
She faird to bind, tho' being, as I think. 
Unbound as yet, and gentle, as I know." 

And Lancelot answer'd nothing, but he went, 
And at the inrunning of a little brook 
Sat by the river in a cove and watchM 
The high reed wave, and lifted up his eyes 
And saw the barge that brought her moving down, 
Far-off, a blot upon the stream, and said 
Low in himself, " Ah simple heart and sweet, 
You loved me, damsel, surely with a love 
Far tenderer than my Queen's. Pray for thy soul? 
Ay, that will L Farewell too — now at last — 
Farewell, fair lily. ' Jealousy in love ? ' 
Not rather dead love's harsh heir, jealous pride ? 
Queen, if I grant the jealousy as of love. 
May not your crescent fear for name and fame 
Speak, as it waxes, of a love that wanes ? 
Why did the King dwell on my name to me? 
Mine own name shames me, seeming a reproach, 
Lancelot, whom the Lady of the lake 



ELAINE. 149 

Stole from his mother — as the story runs — 
She chanted snatches of mysterious song 
Heard on the winding waters, eve and morn 
She kiss'd me saying thou art fair, my child, 
As a king's son, and often in her arms 
She bare me, pacing on the dusky mere. 
Would she had drown'd me in it, where'er it be? 
For what am I ? what profits me my name 
Of greatest knight? I fought for it, and have it : 
Pleasure to have it, none ; to lose it, pain : 
Now grown a part of me : but what use in it? 
To make men worse by making my sin known ? 
Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming great? 
Alas for Arthur's greatest knight, a man 
Not after Arthur's heart, I needs must break 
These bonds that so defame me : not without 
She wills it: would I, if she will'd it? nay, 
Who knows ? but if I would not, then may God, 
I pray him, send a sudden Angel down 
To seize me by the hair and bear me far, 
And fling me deep in that forgotten mere. 
Among the tumbled fragments of the hills." 

So groan'd Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain, 
Not knowing he should die a holy man. 



GUINEVERE. 



Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat 
There in the holy house at Almesbury 
Weeping, none with her save a little maid, 
A novice : one low light betwixt them burn'd 
Blurr'd by the creeping mist, for all abroad, 
Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full, 
The white mist, like a face-cloth to the face, 
Clung to the dead earth, and the land was still. 

For hither had she fled, her cause of flight 
Sir Modred ; he the nearest to the King, 
His nephew, ever like a subtle beast 
Lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne, 
Ready to spring, waiting a chance : for this. 
He chiird the popular praises of the King, 
With silent smiles of slow disparagement ; 
And tampered with the Lords of the White Horse, 
Heathen, the brood by Hengist left ; and sought 
To make disruption in the Table Round 
Of Arthur, and to splinter it into feuds 
Serving his traitorous end ; and all his aims 
Were sharpened by strong hate for Lancelot. 

150 



GUINEVERE. 151 

For thus it chanced one morn when all the court, 
Green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the May, 
Had been, their wont, a-maying and returned, 
That Modred still in green, all ear and eye, 
Climb'd to the high top of the garden wall 
To spy some secret scandal if he might, 
And saw the Queen, who sat betwixt her best 
Enid, and lissome Vivien, of her court 
The wiliest and the worst ; and more than this 
He saw not, for Sir Lancelot passing by 
Spied where he couch'd, and as the gardener's hand 
Picks from the colewort a green caterpillar. 
So from the high wall and the flowering grove 
Of grasses Lancelot pluck'd him by the heel, 
And cast him as a worm upon the way ; 
But when he knew the Prince tho' marr'd with 

dust, 
He, reverencing king's blood in a bad man, 
Made such excuses as he might, and these 
Full knightly without scorn ; for in those days 
No knight of Arthur's noblest dealt in scorn ; 
But, if a man were halt or hunch'd, in him 
By those whom God had made full-limb'd and tall. 
Scorn was allow'd as part of his defect, 
And he was answer'd softly by the King 
And all his Table. So Sir Lancelot holp 
To raise the Prince, who rising twice or thrice 
Full sharply smote his knees, and smiled, and went : 
But, ever after, the small violence done 
Rankled in him and ruffled all his heart. 
As the sharp wind that ruffles all day long 



152 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

A little bitter pool about a stone 
On the bare coast. 

But when Sir Lancelot told 
This matter to the Queen, at first she laugh'd 
Lightly, to think of Modred's dusty fall, 
Then shuddered, as the village wife who cries 
^' I shudder, some one steps across my grave ; " 
Then laugh'd again, but faintlier, for indeed 
She half-foresaw that he, the subtle beast, 
Would track her guilt until he found, and hers 
Would be forevermore a name of scorn. 
Henceforward rarely could she front in Hall, 
Or elsewhere, Modred's narrow foxy face, 
Heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye : 
Henceforward too, the Powers that tend the soul, 
To help it from the death that cannot die. 
And save it even in extremes, began 
To vex and plague her. Many a time for hours. 
Beside the placid breathings of the King, 
In the dead night, grim faces came and went 
Before her, or a vague spiritual fear — 
Like to some doubtful noise of creaking doors, 
Heard by the watcher in a haunted house. 
That keeps the rust of murder on the walls — 
Held her awake ; or if she slept, she dream'd 
An awful dream ; for then she seem'd to stand 
On some vast plain before a setting sun, 
And from the sun there swiftly made at her 
A ghastly something, and its shadow flew 
Before her, till it touched her, and she turn'd — 
When lo! her own, that broadening from her feet, 



GUINEVERE. 153 

And blackening, swallowed all the land, and in it 

Far cities burnt, and with a cry she woke. 

And all this trouble did not pass but grew ; 

Till ev'n the clear face of the guileless King, 

And trustful courtesies of household life. 

Became her bane ; and at the last she said, 

'' O Lancelot, get thee thence to thine own land. 

For if thou tarry we shall meet again, 

And if we meet again some evil chance 

Will make the smouldering scandal break and blaze 

Before the people, and our lord the King." 

And Lancelot ever promised, but remained. 

And still they met and met. Again she said, 

" O Lancelot, if thou love me get thee hence," 

And then they were agreed upon a night 

(When the good King should not be there) to meet 

And part forever. Passion-pale they met 

And greeted : hands in hands, and eye to eye, 

Low on the border of her couch they sat 

Stammering and staring ; it was their last hour, 

A madness of farewells. And Modred brought 

His creatures to the basement of the tower 

For testimony ; and crying with full voice, 

'•'' Traitor, come out, ye are trapt at last," aroused 

Lancelot, who rushing outward lionlike 

Leapt on him, and hurl'd him headlong, and he fell 

Stunn'd, and his creatures took and bare him off 

And all was still : then she, " The end is come 

And I am shamed forever : " and he said, 

*' Mine be the shame : mine was the sin ; but rise, 

And fly to my strong castle overseas ; 



154 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

There will I hide thee, fill my life shall end, 
There hold thee with my life against the world." 
She answerM, " Lancelot, wilt thou hold me so? 
Nay friend, for we have taken our farewells. 
Would God, that thou couldst hide me from myself t 
Mine is the shame, for I was wife, and thou 
Unwedded : yet rise now, and let us fly, 
For I will draw me into sanctuary, 
And bide my doom."" So Lancelot got her horse^ 
Set her thereon, and mounted on his own, 
And then they rode to the divided way, 
There kiss'd, and parted weeping : for he past 
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen, 
Back to his land ; but she to Almesbury 
Fled all night long by glimmering waste and weald^ 
And heard the Spirits of the waste and weald 
Moan as she fled, or thought she heard them moan ; 
And in herself she moan'd, "Too late, too late!" 
Till in the cold wind that foreruns the morn, 
A blot in heaven, the Raven, flying high, 
Croak'd, and she thought, " He spies a field of death : 
For now the heathen of the Northern Sea, 
Lured by the crimes and frailties of the court, 
Begin to slay the folk,. and spoil the land.'' 

And when she came to Almesbury she spake 
There to the nuns, and said, " Mine enemies 
Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sisterhood, 
Receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask 
Her name, to whom ye yield it, till her time 
To tell you : '^ and her beauty, grace, and power 




Vivien. 



GL.XhVERE. 155 

Wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared 
To ask it. 

So the stately Queen abode 
For many a week, unknown, among the nuns ; 
Nor with them mix'd, nor told her name, nor sought, 
Wrapt in her grief, for housel or for shrift, 
But communed only with the little maid, 
Who pleased her with a babbling heedlessness 
Which often lured her from herself; but now, 
This night, a rumor wildly blown about 
Came that Sir Modred had usurp'd the realm, 
And leagued him with the heathen, while the King 
Was waging war on Lancelot : then she thought, 
^' With what a hate the people and the King 
Must hate me," and bow'd down upon her hands 
Silent, until the little maid, who brook'd 
No silence, brake it, uttering "Late! so late! 
What hour, I wonder, now ? " and when she drew 
No answer, by and by began to hum 
An air the nuns had taught her; "Late, so 

late!" 
Which when she heard, the Queen looked up, and 

said, 
•" O maiden, if indeed you list to sing, 
Sing and unbind my heart that I may weep." 
Whereat full willingly sang the little maid. 

"Late, late, so late! and dark the night and 
chill! 
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still. 
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. 



156 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

" No light had we ; for that we do repent ; 
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent. 
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. 

" No light : so late ! and dark and chill the night ! 
O let us in, that we may find the light! 
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now. 

" Have we not heard the bridegroom is st) sweet ? 
O let us in, tho' late, to kiss his feet! 
No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now." 

So sang the novice, while full passionately, 
Her head upon her hands, remembering 
Her thought when first she came, wept the saa 

Queen. 
Then said the Httle novice prattling to her : 

" O pray you, noble lady, weep no more ; 
But let my words, the words of one so small, 
Who knowing nothing knows but to obey, 
And if I do not there is penance given — 
Comfort your sorrows ; for they do not flow 
From evil done : right sure am I of that. 
Who see your tender grace and stateliness. 
But weigh your sorrows with our lord the King's, 
And weighing find them less ; for gone is he 
To wage grim war against Sir Lancelot there, 
Round that strong castle where he holds the Queen ; 
And Modred whom he left in charge of all. 



GUINEVERE. IS7 

The traitor — Ah sweet lady, the King',: grief 

For his own self, and his own Queen, and realm, 

Must needs be thrice as great as any of ours. 

For me I thank the saints I am not great. 

For if there ever come a grief to me 

I cry my cry in silence, and have done : 

None knows it, and my tears have brought me 

good. 
But even were the griefs of little ones 
As great as those of great ones, yet this grief 
Is added to the griefs the great must bear, 
That howsoever much they may desire 
Silence, they cannot weep behind a cloud : 
As even here they talk at Almesbury 
About the good King and his wicked Queen, 
And were I such a King with such a Queen, 
Well might I wish to veil her wickedness, 
But were I such a King, it could not be." 

Then to her own sad heart mutter'd the Queen, 
"Will the child kill me with her innocent talk?* 
But openly she answered, " Must not I, 
If this false traitor have displaced his lord. 
Grieve with the common grief of all the realm?" 

" Yea," said the maid, " this is all woman's grie^ 
That she is woman, whose disloyal life 
Hath wrought confusion in the Table Round 
Which good King Arthur founded, years ago, 
With signs and miracles and wonders, there 
At Camelot, ere the coming of the Queen." 



158 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then thought the Queen within herself again, 
"Will the child kill me with her foolish prate?'' 
But openly she spake and said to her, 
^' O little maid, shut in by nunnery walls, 
What canst thou know of Kings and Tables Roundj 
Or what of signs and wonders, but the signs 
And simple miracles of thy nunnery?" 

To whom the little novice garrulously : 
" Yea, but I know : the land was full of signs 
And wonders ere the coming of the Queen. 
So said my father, and himself was knight 
Of the great Table — at the founding of it : 
And rode thereto from Lyonnesse, and he said 
That as he rode, an hour or maybe twain 
After the sunset, down the coast, he heard 
.Strange music, and he paused and turning — there, 
All down the lonely coast of Lyonnesse, 
£ach with a beacon-star upon his head, 
And with a wild sea-light about his feet, 
He saw them — headland after headland flame 
Far on into the rich heart of the west : 
And in the light the white mermaiden swam, 
And strong man-breasted things stood from the sea, 
And sent a deep sea-voice thro' all the land, 
To which the little elves of chasm and cleft 
Made answer, sounding like a distant horn. 
So said my father — yea, and furthermore. 
Next morning, while he past the dim-lit woods, 
Himself beheld three spirits mad with joy 
Come dashing down on a tall wayside flower, 



GUINEVERE. 159 

That shook beneath them, as the thistle shakes 
When three gray linnets wrangle for the seed : 
And still at evenings on before his horse 
The flickering fairy-circle wheePd and broke 
Flying, and linked again, and wheePd and broke 
Flying, for all the land was full of life. 
And when at last he came to Camelot, 
A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-hand 
Swung round the lighted lantern of the hall ; 
And in the hall itself was such a feast 
As never man had dream'd ; for every knight 
Had whatsoever meat he longM for served 
By hands unseen ; and even as he said 
Down in the cellars merry bloated things 
Shouldered the spigot, straddling on the butts 
While the wine ran : so glad were spirits and men 
Before the coming of the sinful Queen." 

Then spake the Queen, and somewhat bitterly, 
"Were they so glad? ill prophets were they all, 
Spirits and men : could none of them foresee, 
Not even thy wise father with his signs 
And wonders, what has faH'n upon the realm ? *' 

To whom the novice garrulously again : 
" Yea, one. a bard ; of whom my father said, 
Full many a noble war-song had he sung, 
Ev'n in the presence of an enemy's fleet. 
Between the steep cliff and the coming wave ; 
And many a mystic lay of life and death 
Had chanted on the smoky mountain-tops, 



160 luYLS OF THE KING. 

When round him bent the spirits of the hills, 

With all their dewy hair blown back like flame : 

So said my father — and that night the bard 

Sang Arthur's glorious wars, and sang the King 

As wellnigh more than man, and rail'd at those 

Who caird him the false son of Gorlois : 

For there was no man knew from whence he came ; 

But after tempest, when the long wave broke 

All down the thundering shores of Bude and Bos, 

There came a day as still as heaven, and then 

They found a naked child upon the sands 

Of dark Dundagil by the Cornish sea ; 

And that was Arthur ; and they foster'd him 

Till he by miracle was approven king : 

And that his grave should be a mystery 

From all men, like his birth ; and could he find 

A woman in her womanhood as great 

As he was in his manhood, then, he sang, 

The twain together well might change the world. 

But even in the middle of his song 

He falter'd, and his hand fell from the harp, 

And pale he turnM, and reePd, and would have 

fall'n. 
But that they stay'd him up ; nor would he tell 
His vision ; but what doubt that he foresaw 
This evil work of Lancelot and the Queen?" 

Then thought the Queen, "Lo! they have set 
her on, 
Our simple seeming Abbess and her nuns. 
To play upon me," and bow'd her head nor spake. 



GUINEVERE. 161 

Whereat the novice crying, with clasp'd hands, 

Shame on her own garruHty garrulously, 

Said the good nuns would check her gadding 

tongue 
P^ull often, " And, sweet lady, if I seem 
To vex an ear too sad to listen to me, 
Unmannerly, with prattling and with tales 
Which my good father told me, check me too : 
Nor let me shame my father's memory, one 
Of noblest manners, tho' himself would say 
Sir Lancelot had the noblest : and he died, 
Kiird in a tilt, come next, five summers back. 
And left me ; but of others who remain. 
And of the two first-famed for courtesy — 
And pray you check me if I ask amiss — 
But pray you, which had noblest, while you moved 
Among them, Lancelot or our lord the King ? " 

Then the pale Queen look'd up and answered 
her, 
" Sir Lanceloti, as became a noble knight, 
Was gracious to all ladies, and the same 
In open battle or the tilting-field 
Forebore his own advantage, and these two 
Were the most nobly-manner'd men of all ; 
For manners are not idle, but the fruit 
Of loyal nature, and of noble mind." 

"Yea," said the maid, "be manners such fair 
fruit? 
Then Lancelot's needs must be a thousand fold 



162 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Less noble, being, as all rumor runs, 
The most disloyal friend in all the world." 

To which a mournful answer made the Queen^ 
" O closed about by narrowing nunnery-walls, 
What knowest thou of the world, and all its lights 
And shadows, all the wealth and all the woe ? 
If ever Lancelot, that most noble knight, 
Were for one hour less noble than himself, 
Pray for him that he scape the doom of fire. 
And weep for her, who drew him to his doom." 

" Yea," said the little novice, " I pray for both ; 
But I should all as soon believe that his, 
Sir Lancelofs, were as noble as the King's, 
As I could think, sweet lady, yours would be 
Such as they are, were you the sinful Queen." 

So she, like many another babbler, hurt 
Whom she would soothe, and harm'd where shi 

would heal ; 
For here a sudden flush of wrathful heat 
Fired all the pale face of the Queen, who cried, 
" Such as thou art be never maiden more 
Forever! thou their tool, set on to plague 
And play upon, and harry me, pretty spy 
And traitress." When that storm of anger brake 
From Guinevere, aghast the maiden rose. 
White as her veil, and stood before the Queen 
As tremulously as foam upon the beach 
Stands in a wind, ready to break and fly, 



GUINEVERE. 163 

And when the Queen had added " Get thee hence.' " 
Fled frighted. Then that other left alone 
Sigh'd, and began to gather heart again, 
Saying in herself, " The simple, fearful child 
Meant nothing, but my own too-fearful guilt 
Simpler than any child, betrays itself. 
But help me, heaven, for surely I repent. 
For what is true repentance but in thought — 
Not e'en in inmost thought to think again 
The sins that made the past so pleasant to us : 
And I have sworn never to see him more, 
To see him more." 

And e'en in saying this, 
Her memory from old habit of the mind 
Went slipping back upon the golden days 
In which she saw him first, when Lancelot came. 
Reputed the best knight and goodliest man, 
Ambassador, to lead her to his lord 
Arthur, and led her forth, and far ahead 
Of his and her retinue moving, they, 
Rapt in sweet thought, or lively, all on love 
And sport and tilts and pleasure, (for the time 
Was maytime, and as yet no sin was dream'd,) 
Rode under groves that look'd a paradise 
Of blossom, over sheets of hyacinth 
That seem'd the heavens upbreaking thro' the earth, 
And on from hill to hill, and every day 
Beheld at noon in some delicious dale 
The silk pavilions of King Arthur raised 
For brief repast or afternoon repose 
By couriers gone before ; and on again, 



164 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

Till yet once more ere set of sun they saw 
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship, 
That crown'd the state pavilion of the King, 
Blaze by the rushing brook or silent well. 

But when the Queen immersed in such a trance, 
And moving thro' the past unconsciously, 
Came to that point, when first she saw the King 
Ride toward her from the city, sigh'd to find 
Her journey done, glanced at him, thought him cold, 
High, self-contain'd, and passionless, not like him, 
" Not like my Lancelot " — while she brooded thus 
And grew half-guilty in her thoughts again. 
There rode an armed warrior to the doors. 
A murmuring whisper thro' the nunnery ran. 
Then on a sudden a cry, " The King." She sat 
Stiff-stricken, listening ; but when armed feet 
Thro' the long gallery from the outer doors 
Rang coming, prone from off her seat she fell. 
And grovell'd with her face against the floor : 
There with her milkwhite arms and shadowy hair 
She made her face a darkness from the King : 
And in the darkness heard his armed feet 
Pause by her ; then came silence, then a voice. 
Monotonous and hollow like a Ghost's 
Denouncing judgment, but tho' changed the King's. 

" Liest thou here so low, the child of one 
I honor'd, happy, dead before thy shame? 
Well is it that no child is born of thee. 
The children born of thee are sword and fire, 



GUINEVERE. 165 

Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws, 

The craft of kindred and the Godless hosts 

Of heathen swarming o'er the Northern Sea. 

Whom I, while yet Sir Lancelot, my right arm, 

The mightiest of my knights abode with me, 

Have everywhere about this land of Christ 

In twelve great battles ruining overthrown. 

And knowest thou now from whence I come — from 

him, 
From waging bitter war with him : and he. 
That did not shun to smite me in worse way. 
Had yet that grace of courtesy in him left, 
He spared to lift his hand against the King 
Who made him knight : but many a knight was 

slain ; 
And many more, and all his kith and kin 
Clave to him, and abode in his own land. 
And many more when Modred raised revolt, 
Forgetful of their troth and fealty, clave 
To Modred, and a remnant stays with me. 
And of this remnant will I leave a part. 
True men who love me still, for whom I live, 
To guard thee in the wild hour coming on, 
Lest but a hair of this low head be harm'd. 
Fear not : thou shalt be guarded till my death. 
Howbeit I know, if ancient prophecies 
Have errd not, that I march to meet my doom. 
Thou hast not made my life so sweet to me, 
That I the King should greatly care to live ; 
For thou hast spoilt the purpose of my life. 
Bear with me for the last time while I show, 



166 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Ev'n for thy sake, the sin which thou hast sinn'd. 

For when the Roman left us, and their law 

Relax'd its hold upon us, and the ways 

Were filPd with rapine, here and there a deed 

Of prowess done redressM a random wrong. 

But I was first of all the kings who drew 

The knighthood-errant of this realm and all 

The realms together under me, their Head, 

In that fair order of my Table Round, 

A glorious company, the flower of men, 

To serve as model for the mighty world. 

And be the fair beginning of a time. 

I made them lay their hands in mine and swear 

To reverence the King, as if he were 

Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 

To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, 

To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, 

To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, 

To lead sweet lives in purest chastity. 

To love one maiden only, cleave to her, 

And worship her by years of noble deeds, 

Until they won her ; for indeed I knew 

Of no more subtle master under heaven 

Than is the maiden passion for a maid. 

Not only to keep down the base in man. 

But teach high thought and amiable words 

And courtliness, and the desire of fame, 

And love of truth, and all that makes a man. 

And all this throve until I wedded thee! 

Believing " lo mine helpmate, one to feel 

My purpose and rejoicing in my joy." 



GUINEVERE. 167 

Then came thy shameful sin with Lancelot ; 

Then came the sin of Tristram and Isolt ; 

Then others, following these my mightiest knights. 

And drawing foul ensample from fair names, 

Sinn'd also, till the loathsome opposite 

Of all my heart had destined did obtain, 

And all thro' thee! so that this life of mine 

I guard as God's high gift from scathe and wrong, 

Not greatly care to lose ; but rather think 

How sad it were for Arthur, should he live, 

To sit once more within his lonely hall. 

And miss the wonted number of my knights. 

And miss to hear high talk of noble deeds 

As in the golden days before thy sin. 

For which of us, who might be left, could speak 

Of the pure heart, nor seem to glance at thee ? 

And in thy bowers of Camelot or of Usk 

Thy shadow still would glide from room to room, 

And I should evermore be vext with thee 

In hanging robe or vacant ornament, 

Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair. 

For think not, tho' thou wouldst not love thy Lord, 

Thy lord has wholly lost his love for thee. 

I am not made of so slight elements. 

Yet must I leave thee, woman, to thy shame. 

I hold that man the worst of public foes 

Who either for his own or children's sake. 

To save his blood from scandal, lets the wife 

Whom he knows false, abide and rule the house ; 

For being thro' his cowardice allow'd 

Her station, taken everywhere for pure, 



168 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

She like a new disease, unknown to men, 
Creeps, no precaution used, among the crowd, 
Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes, and saps 
The fealty of our friends, and stirs the pulse 
With devil's leaps, and poisons half the young. 
Worst of the worst were that man he that reigns! 
Better the King's waste hearth and aching heart 
Than thou reseated in thy place of light, 
The mockery of my people, and their bane." 

He paused, and in the pause she crept an inch 
Nearer, and laid her hands about his feet. 
Far off a solitary trumpet blew. 
Then waiting by the doors the warhorse neigh'd 
As at a friend's voice, and he spake again : 

" Yet think not that I come to urge thy crimes, 
I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere, 
I, whose vast pity almost makes me die 
To see thee, laying there thy golden head. 
My pride in happier summers at my feet. 
The wrath which forced my thoughts on that fierce 

law. 
The doom of treason and the flaming death, 
(When first I learnt thee hidden here) is past. 
The pang — which while I weigh'd thy heart with 

one 
Too wholly true to dream untruth in thee, 
Made my tears burn — is also past, in part. 
And all is past, the sin is sinn'd, and I, 
Lo! I forgive thee, as Eternal God 



GUINEVERE. 169 

Forgives : do thou for thine own soul the rest. 
But how to take last leave of all I loved? 

golden hair, wdth which I used to play 
Not knowing! O imperial-moulded form, 
And beauty such as never woman w^ore. 
Until it came a kingdom's curse with thee — 

1 cannot touch thy lips, they are not mine, 

But Lancelot's : nay, they never were the King's. 

I cannot take thy hand ; that too is flesh, 

And in the flesh thou hast sinn'd ; and mine own 

flesh, 
Here looking down on thine own polluted, cries 
' I loathe thee ; ' yet not less, O Guinevere, 
For I was ever virgin save for thee, 
My love thro' flesh hath wrought into my life 
So far, that my doom is, I love thee still. 
Let no man dream but that I love thee still. 
Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul. 
And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, 
Hereafter in that world where all are pure 
We two may meet before high God, and thou 
Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know 
I am thine husband — not a smaller soul. 
Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that, 
I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence. 
Thro' the thick night I hear the trumpet blow : 
They summon me their King to lead mine hosts 
Far down to that great battle in the west, 
Where 1 must st-ike against my sister's son, 
Leagued with the lords of the White Horse and 

knights 



170 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Once mine, and strike him dead, and meet myself 
Death, or I know not what mysterious doom. 
And thou remaining here wilt learn the event .; 
But hither shall I never come again. 
Never lie by thy side, see thee no more. 
Farewell ! " 

And while she grovelFd at his feet, 
She felt the King's breath wander o'er her neck. 
And, in the darkness o'er her fallen head. 
Perceived the waving of his hands that blest. 

Then, listening till those armed steps were 
gone, 
Rose the pale Queen, and in her anguish found 
The casement : '•■ Peradventure," so she thought, 
"If I might see his face, and not be seen." 
And lo, he sat on horseback at the door! 
And near him the sad nuns with each a light 
Stood, and he gave them charge about the Queen, 
To guard and foster her forevermore. 
And while he spake to these his helm was lower'd, 
To which for crest the golden dragon clung 
Of Britain ; so she did not see the face, 
Which then was as an angel's, but she saw. 
Wet with the mists and smitten by the lights, 
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship 
Blaze, making all the night a steam of fire. 
And even then he turn'd ; and more and more 
The moony vapor rolling round the King, 
Who seem'd the phantom of a Giant in it, 
Enwound him fold by fold, and made him o^ray 



GUINEVERE. \3\ 

And grayer, till himself became as mist 
Before her, moving ghostlike to his doom. 

Then she stretch'd out her arms and cried aloud, 
"O Arthur!" there her voice brake suddenly, 
Then — as a stream that spouting from a cliff 
Fills in mid-air, but gathering at the base 
Re-makes itself, and flashes down the vale — 
Went on in passionate utterance. 

" Gone — my lord! 
Gone thro' my sin to slay and to be slain! 
And he forgave me, and I could not speak. 
Farewell? I should have answered his farewell. 
His mercy choked me. Gone, my lord the King, 
My own true lord! how dare I call him mine? 
The shadow of another cleaves to me. 
And makes me one pollution : he, the King, 
CalPd me polluted : shall I kill myself? 
What help in that? I cannot kill my sin, 
If soul be soul ; nor can I kill my shame ; 
No, nor by living can I live it down. 
The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months, 
The months will add themselves and make the years, 
The years will roll into the centuries, 
And mine will ever be a name of scorn. 
I must not dwell on that defeat of fame. 
Let the world be ; that is but of the world. 
What else ? what hope ? I think there was a hope, 
Except he mock'd me when he spake of hope ; 
His hope he call'd it ; but he never mocks. 
For mockery is the fume of little hearts 



172 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And blessed be the King, who hath forgiven - 
My wickedness to him, and left me hope 
That in mine own heart I can live down sin 
And be his mate hereafter in the heavens 
Before high God. Ah great and gentle lord, 
Who wast, as is the conscience of a saint 
Among his warring senses, to thy knights — 
To whom my false voluptuous pride, that took 
Full easily all impressions from below, 
Would not look up, or half-despised the height 
To which I would not or I could not climb — 
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air 
That pure severity of perfect light — 
I wanted warmth and color which I found 
In Lancelot — now I see thee what thou art, 
Thou art the highest and most human too, 
Not Lancelot, nor another. Is there none 
Will tell the King I love him tho' so late? 
Now — ere he goes to the great Battle? none: 
Myself must tell him in that purer life. 
But now it were too daring. Ah my God, 
What might I not have made of thy fair world, 
Had I but loved thy highest creature here? 
It was my duty to h^ve loved the highest: 
It surely was my profit had I known : 
It would have been my pleasure had I seen. 
We needs must love the highest when we see it. 
Not Lancelot, nor another." 

Here her hand 
Grasp'd, made her veil her eyes : she look'd and saw 
The novice, weeping, suppliant, and said to her, 



GUINEVERE. 173 

*'- Yeay little maid, for am / not forgiven ? " 
Then glancing up beheld the holy nuns 
All round her, weeping ; and her heart was loosed 
Within her, and she wept with these and said : 
"Ye know me then, that wicked one, who broke 
The vast design and purpose of the King. 

shut me round with narrowing nunnery-walls, 
Meek maidens, from the voices crying ' Shame.' 

1 must not scorn myself: he loves me still. 
Let no one dream but that he loves me still. 
So let me, if you do not shudder at me 
Nor shun to call me sister, dwell with you : 
Wear black and white, and be a nun like you ; 
Fast with your fasts, not feasting with your feasts ; 
Grieve with your griefs, not grieving at your joys, 
But not rejoicing ; mingle with your rites ; 

Pray and be prayed for : lie before your shrines ; 

Do each low office of your holy house ; 

Walk your dim cloister, and distribute dole 

To poor sick people, richer in his eyes 

Who ransomed us, and haler too than I ; 

And treat their loathsome hurts and heal mine 

own ; 
And so wear out in almsdeed and in prayer 
The sombre close of that voluptuous day. 
Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King." 

She said : they took her to themselves, and she 
Still hoping, fearing " Is it yet too late ? " 
Dwelt with them, till in time their Abbess died. 
Then she, for her good deeds and her pure life, 



174 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

And for the power of ministration in her, 
And likewise for the high rank she had borne, 
Was chosen Abbess, there, an Abbess lived 
For three brief years, and there, an Abbess, past 
To where beyond these voices there is peace. 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 



Leodogran, the King of Cameliard, 
Had one fair daughter, and none other child ; 
And she was fairest of all flesh on earth, 
Guinevere, and in her his one delight. 

For many a petty king ere Arthur came 
Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war 
Each upon other, wasted all the land ; 
And still from time to time the heathen host 
Swarm'd overseas, and harried what was left. 
And so there grew great tracts of wilderness, 
Wherein the beast was ever more and more, 
But man was less and less, till Arther came. 
For first Aurelius lived and fought and died, 
And after him King Uther fought and died, 
But either fail'd to make the kingdom one. 
And after these King Arthur for a space. 
And thro' the puissance of his Table Round, 
Drew all their petty princedoms under him, 
Their king and head, and made a realm, and reign'd 

And thus the land of Cameliard was was te, 
Thick with wet woods, and many a beast the e'n. 
J 75 



176 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And none or few to scare or chase the beast ; 
So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear 
Came night and day, and rooted in the fields, 
And wallow'd in the gardens of the king. 
And ever and anon the wolf would steal 
The children and devour, but now and then, 
Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat 
To human sucklings ; and the children, housed 
In her foul den, there at their meat would growl, 
And mock their foster-mother on four feet, 
Till, straightened they grew up to wolf-like men. 
Worse than the wolves. And King Leodogran 
Groan'd for the Roman legions here again, 
And Caesar's eagle : then his brother king, 
Rience, assaiPd him : last a heathen horde. 
Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood, 
And on the spike that split the mother's heart 
Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed, 
He knew not whither he should turn for aid. 

But — for he heard of Arthur newly crown'd, 
Tho' not without an uproar made by those 
Who cried, " He is not Uther's son " — the king 
Sent to him, saying, " Arise, and help us thou! 
For here between the man and beast we die." 

And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms, 
But heard the call, and came : and Guinevere 
Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass ; 
But since he neither wore on helm or shield 
The golden symbol of his kinglihood, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR, 177 

But rode a simple knight among his knights, 
And many of these in richer arms than he, 
She saw him not, or marked not, if she saw, 
One among many, tho' his face was bare. 
But Arthur, looking downward as he past, 
Felt the light of her eyes into his life 
Smite on the sudden, yet rode On, and pitch'd 
His tents beside the forest. And he drave 
The heathen, and he slew the beast, and fell'd 
The forest, and let in the sun, and made 
Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight ; 
And so returned. 

For while he lingered there, 
A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts 
Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm 
Flash'd forth and into war : for most of these 
Made head against him, crying, " Who is he 
That he should rule us ? who hath proven him 
King Uther's son? for lo! we look at him 
And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice. 
Are like to those of Uther whom we knew. 
This is the son of Gorlois, not the king ; 
This is the son of Anton, not the king." 

And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt 
Travail, and throes and agonies of the life, 
Desiring to be joinM with Guinevere ; 
And thinking as he rode, " Her father said 
That there between the man and beast they die. 
Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts 



178 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Up to my throne, and side by side with me? 
What happiness to reign a lonely king, 
Vext — O ye stars that shudder over me, 

earth that soundest hollow under me, 

Vext with waste dreams ? for saving I be join'd 
To her that is the fairest under heaven, 

1 seem as nothing in the mighty world, 
And cannot will my will, nor work my work 
Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm 
Victor and lord. But were I joinM with her. 
Then might we live together as one life, 
And reigning with one will in everything 
Have power on this dark land to lighten it. 
And power on this dead world to make it live." 

And Arthur from the field of battle sent 
Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere, 
His new-made knights, to King Leodogran, 
Saying, " If I in aught have served thee well, 
Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife." 

Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heart 
Debating — " How should I that am a king. 
However much he holp me at my need, 
Give my one daughter saving to a king, 
And a king's son " — lifted his voice, and call'd 
A hoary man, his chamberlain, to whom 
He trusted all things, and of him required 
His counsel: " Knowest thou aught of Arthur's 
birth?" 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 179 

Then spake the hoary chamberlain and said, 
*• Sir king, there be but two old men that know : 
And each is twice as old as I ; and one 
Is Merlin, the wise man that ever served 
King Uther thro' his magic art ; and one 
Is Merlin's master (so th^.y ^all him) Bleys, 
Who taught him magic ; Dut the scholar ran 
Before the master, and so far, that Bleys 
Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wrote 
All things and whatsoever Merlin did 
In one great annal-book, where after-years 
Will learn the secret of our Arthur's birth." 

To whom the King Leodogran replied, 
" O friend, had I been holpen half as well 
By this King Arthur as by thee to-day, 
Then beast and man had had their share of me . 
But summon here before us yet once more 
Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere." 

Then, when they came before him, the king said, 
^' I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl, 
And reason in the chase : but wherefore now 
Do these your lords stir up the heat of war, 
Some calling Arthur born of Gorlois, 
Others of Anton? Tell me, ye yourselves, 
Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's son?" 

And Ulfius and Brastias answer'd, " Ay." 
Then Bedivere, the first of all his knights 
Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake — 



180 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

For bold in heart and act and word was he, 
Whenever slander breathed against the king — 

" Sir, there be many rumors on this head : 
For there be those who hate him in their hearts, 
Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet. 
And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man : 
And there be those who deem him more than man, 
And dream he dropt from heaven : but my belief 
In all this matter — so ye care to learn — 
Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's time 
The prince and warrior Gorlois, he that held 
Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea, 
Was wedded with a winsome wife, Ygerne : 
And daughters had she borne him, one whereof, 
Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent, 
Hath ever like a loyal sister cleaved 
To Arthur, — but a son she had not borne. 
And Uther cast upon her eyes of love : 
But she, a stainless wife to Gorlois, 
So loathed the bright dishonor of his love, 
That Gorlois and King Uther went to war: 
And overthrown was Gorlois and slain. 
Then Uther in his wrath and heat besieged 
Ygerne within Tintagil, where her men, 
Seeing the mighty swarm about their walls, 
Left her and iied, and Uther entered in. 
And there was none to call to but himself. 
So, compassM by the power of the king, 
Enforced she was to wed him in her tears, 
And with a shameful swiftness : afterward, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 181 

Not many moons, King Uther died himself, 

Moaning and wailing for an heir to rule 

After him, lest the realm should go to wrack. 

And that same night, the night of the new year, 

By reason of the bitterness and grief 

That vext his mother, all before his time 

Was Arthur born^ and all as soon as born 

Delivered at a secret postern-gate 

To MerUn, to be holden far apart 

Until his hour should come ; because the lords 

Of that fierce day were as the lords of this, 

Wild beasts, and surely would have torn the child 

Piecemeal among them, had they known ; for each 

But sought to rule for his own self and hand. 

And many hated Uther for the sake 

Of Gorlois. Wherefore Merlin took the child, 

And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knight 

And ancient friend of Uther ; and his wife 

Nursed the young prince, and rear'd him with her 

own; 
And no man knew. And ever since the lords 
Have foughten like wild beasts among themselves. 
So that the realm has gone to wrack : but now, 
This year, when Merlin (for his hour had come) 
Brought Arthur forth, and set him in the hall, 
Proclaiming, ' Here is Uther's heir, your king,' 
A hundred voices cried, ' Away with him! 
No king of ours! a son of Gorlois he. 
Or else the child of Anton, and no king, 
Or else baseborn.' Yet Merlin thro' his craft. 
And while the people clamor'd for a king, 



182 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Had Arthur crown'd ; but after, the great lord\ 
Banded, and so brake out in open war." 

Then while the king debated with himself 
If Arthur were the child of shamefulness, 
Or born the son of Gorlois, after death. 
Or Uther's son, and born before his time, 
Or whether there were truth in anything 
Said by these three, there came to Cameliard, 
With Gawain and young Modred, her two son,i^ 
Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent ; 
Whom as he could, not as he would, the king 
Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat, 

" A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas — 
Ye come from Arthur's court ; think ye this kmg 
So few his knights, however brave they be — 
Hath body enow to beat his foemen down ? " 

" O king," she cried, " and I will tell thee : few, 
Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him ; 
For I was near him when the savage yells 
Of Uther's peerage died, and Arthur sat 
Crown'd on the dais, and his warriors cried, 
' Be thou the king, and we will work thy will 
Who love thee.' Then the king in low deep tones 
And simple words of great authority, 
Bound them by so strait vows to his own self, 
That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some 
Were pale as at the passing of a ghost, 
Some flush'd, and others dazed, as one who wakes 
Half-blinded at the coming of a light. 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 183 

" But when he spake and cheer'd his Table Round 
With large divine and comfortable words 
Beyond my tongue to tell thee — I beheld 
From eye to eye thro' all their Order flash 
A momentary likeness of the king : 
And ere it left their faces, thro' the cross 
And those around it and the Crucified, 
Down from the casement over Arthur, smote 
Flame-color, vert and azure, in three rays, 
One falling upon each of three fair queens. 
Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends 
Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright 
Sweet faces, who will help him at his need. 

" And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit 
And hundred winters are but as the hands 
Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege. 

" And near him stood the Lady of the Lake, 
Who knows a subtler magic than his own — 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
She gave the king his huge cross-hilted sword, 
Whereby to drive the heathen out : a mist 
Of incense curl'd about her, and her face 
Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom ; 
But there was heard among the holy hymns 
A voice as of the waters, for she dwells 
Down in a deep, calm, whatsoever storms 
May shake the world, and when the surface rolls , 
Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord. 



184 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

" There likewise I beheld ExcaUbur 
Before him at his crowning borne, the sword 
That rose from out the bosom of the lake, 
And Arthur row'd across and took it — rich 
With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt, 
Bewildering heart and eye — the blade so bright 
That men are blinded by it — on one side, 
Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world, 
' Take me,' but turn the blade and you shall see, 
And written in the speech ye speak yourself, 
' Cast me away! ' And sad was Arthur's face 
Taking it, but old Merlin counselled him, 
'Take thou and strike! the time to cast away 
Is yet far-off.' So this great brand the king 
Took, and by this will beat his foemen down." 



Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought 
To sift his doublings to the last, and ask'd. 
Fixing full eyes of question on her face, 
" The swallow and the swift are near akin. 
But thou art closer to this noble prince. 
Being his own dear sister ; "" and she said, 
*' Daughter of Gorlois and Ygerne am I ; " 
" And therefore Arthur's sister," ask'd the King. 
She answered, " These be secret things," and sign'd 
To those two sons to pass and let them be. 
And Gawain went, and breaking into song 
Sprang out, and followed by his flying hair 
Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he saw : 
But Modred laid his ear beside the doors, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 185 

And there half heard ; the same that afterward 
Struck for the throne, and striking found his doom. 

And then the Queen made answer, "What know I ? 
For dark my mother was in eyes and hair, 
And dark in hair and eyes am I : and dark 
Was Gorlois, yea and dark was Uther too, 
Wellnigh to blackness ; but this king is fair 
Beyond the race of Britons and of men. 
Moreover always in my mind I hear 
A cry from out the dawning of my life, 
A mother weeping, and I hear her say, 
^ O that ye had some brother, pretty one. 
To guard thee on the rough ways of the world.'" 

"Ay," said the King, "and hear ye such a cry? 
But when did Arthur chance upon thee first?" 

"O king!" she cried, "and I will tell thee true: 
He found me first when yet a little maid : 
Beaten I had been for a little fault 
Whereof I was not guilty ; and out I ran 
And flung myself down on a bank of heath. 
And hated this fair world and all therein. 
And wept, and wished that I were dead ; and he — 
I know not whether of himself he came, 
Or brought by Merlin, who, they say, can walk 
Unseen at pleasure — he was at my side. 
And spake sweet words, and comforted my heart, 
And dried my tears, being a child with me. 



186 IDYLS OF TH.l KING. 

And many a time he came, an d evermore 
As I grew greater grew with rie ; and sad 
At times he seem'd, and sad with him was I, 
Stern too at times, and then I loved him not, 
But sweet again, and then I loved him well. 
And now of late I see him less and less, 
But those first days had golden hours for me, 
For then I surely thought he would be king. 

" But let me tell thee now another tale : 
For Bleys, our Merlin's master, as they say, 
Died but of late, and sent his cry to me, 
To hear him speak before he left his life. 
Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the mage, 
And when I entered told me that himself 
And Merlin ever served about the king, 
Uther, before he died, and on the night 
When Uther in Tintagil past away 
Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two 
Left the still king, and passing forth to breathe ; 
Then from the castle gateway by the chasm 
Descending thro' the dismal night — a night 
In which the bounds of heaven and earth were 

lost — 
Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps 
It seem'd in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof 
A dragon wing'd, and all from stem to stern 
Bright with a shining people on the decks, 
And gone as soon as seen. And then the two 
Dropt to the cove, and watch'd the great sea fall, 
Wave after wave, each mig' \tier than the last, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 187 

Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep 

And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged 

Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame : 

And down the wave and in the flame was borne 

A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet. 

Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried ' The 

King! 
Here is an heir for Uther!' And the fringe 
Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand, 
Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the word. 
And all at once all round him rose in fire. 
So that the child and he were clothed in fire, 
And presently thereafter folio w'd calm, 
Free sky and stars : 'And this .,ame child,' he said, 
■^ Is he who reigns ; nor could I part in peace 
Till this were told.' And saying this the seer 
Went thro' the strait and dreadful pass of death, 
Not ever to be question'd any more 
Save on the further side ; but when I met 
Merlin, and ask'd him if these things were truth — 
The shining dragon and the naked child 
Descending in the glory of the seas — 
He laugh'd as is his wont, and answer'd me 
In riddling triplets of old time, and said : 

"'Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in the sky! 
A young man will be wiser by and by ; 
An old man's wit may wander ere he die. 

Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow on the lea! 
And truth is this to me, and that to thee ; 
And truth or clothed or naked let it be. 



188 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Rain, sun, and rain! and the free blossom blows: 
Sun, rain, and sun! and where is he who knows? 
From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' 

" So Merlin riddling anger'd me ; but thou 
Fear not to give this king thine only child, 
Guinevere : so great bards of him will sing 
Hereafter ; and dark sayings from of old 
Ranging and ringing thro' the minds of men, 
And echo'd by old folk beside their fires 
For comfort after their wage-work is done. 
Speak of the king ; and Merlin in our time 
Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn 
Tho' men may wound him that he will not die, 
But pass, again to come ; and then or now 
Utterly smite the heathen underfoot, 
Till these and all men hail him for their king." 

She spake and King Leodogran rejoiced, 
But musing " Shall I answer yea or nay?" 
Doubted, and drowsed, nodded and slept, and saw, 
Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew, 
Field after field, up to a height, the peak 
Haze-hidden, and thereon a phantom king. 
Now looming, and now lost ; and on the slope 
The sword rose, the hind fell, the herd was driven, 
Fire glimpsed ; - and all the land from roof and rick, 
In drifts of smoke before a rolling wind, 
Strp^m'd to the peak, and mingled with the haze 
Ana made it thicker ; while the phantom king 
Stint out at times a voice ; and here or there 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 189 

Stood one who pointed toward the voice, the rest 

Slew on and burnt, crying, " No king of ours, 

No son of Uther, and no king of ours ; " 

Till with a wink his dream was changed, the haze 

Descended, and the solid earth became 

As nothing, and the king stood out in heaven, 

Crown'd. And Leodogran awoke, and sent 

Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere, 

Back to the court of Arthur answering yea. 

Then Arthur charged his warrior whom he loved 
And honored most, Sir Lancelot, to ride forth 
And bring the Queen ; — and watch'd him from the 

gates : 
And Lancelot past away among the flowers, 
(For then was latter April) and returned 
Among the flowers, in May, with Guinevere. 
To whom arrived, by Dubric the high saint, 
Chief of the church in Britain, and before 
The stateliest of her altar-shrines, the king 
That morn was married, while in stainless white, 
The fair beginners of a nobler time, 
And glorying in their vows and him, his knights 
Stood round him, and rejoicing in his joy. 
And holy Dubric spread his hands and spake, 
" Reign ye, and live and love, and make the world 
Other, and may thy Queen be one with thee, 
■ And all this Order of thy Table Round 
Fulfil the boundless purpose of their king." 



190 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then at the marriage feast came in from Rome, 
The slowly-fading mistress of the world, 
Great lords, who claimed the tribute as of yore. 
But Arthur spake, " Behold, for these have sworn 
To fight my wars, and worship me their king ; 
The old order changeth, yielding place to new ; 
And we that fight for our fair father Christ, 
Seeing that ye be grown too weak and old 
To drive the heathen from your Roman wall, 
No tribute will we pay : " so those great lords 
Drew back in wrath, and Arthur strove with Rome 

And Arthur and his knighthood for a space 
Were all one will, and thro^ that strength the king 
Drew in the petty princedoms under him, 
Fought, and in twelve great battles overcame 
The heathen hordes, and made a realm and reignMc 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 



The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent, 
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring 
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine 
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirl'd away. 
"How he went down," said Gareth, "as a false 

knight 
Or evil king before my lance if lance 
Were mine to use — O senseless cataract. 
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy — 
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows, 
And mine is living blood : thou dost His will. 
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know, 
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall 
Linger with vacillating obedience, 
Prison'd, and kept and coax'd and whistled to — 
Since the good mother holds me still a child- — 
Good mother is bad mother unto me! 
A worse were better; yet no worse would L 
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force 
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer^ 
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep 
In ever-highering eagle-circles up 
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop 
191 



192 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Down upon all things base, and dash them dead, 

A knight of" Arthur, working out his will, 

To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came 

With Modred hither in the summertime, 

Ask'd me to tilt with him, the proven knigh:. 

Modred for want of worthier was the judge. 

Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said, 

' Thou hast half prevaiPd against me," said so — 

he — 
Tho' Modred biting his thin lips was mute. 
For he is alway sullen : what care I ? " 

And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair 
Ask'd, " Mother, tho' ye count me still the child, 
Sweet mother, do ye love the child? " She laugh'd, 
"Thou art but a wild-goose to question it/' 
" Then, mother, an ye love the child,"' he said, 
" Being a goose and rather tame than wild, 
Hear the child's story." " Yea, my well-beloved, 
And 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs." 

And Gareth answer'd her with kindling eyes, 
" Nay, nay, good mother, but this ^gg of mine 
Was finer gold than any goose can lay ; 
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid 
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm 
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours. 
And there was ever haunting round the palm 
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw 
The splendor sparkling from aloft, and thought 
* An I could climb and lay my hand upon it, 



G ARE TIT AND LYNETTE. 193 

Then were I wealthier than a leash of kings.' 
But ever when he reached a hand to climb, 
One, that had loved him from his childhood, caught 
And stay'd him, ' Climb not lest thou break thy neck, 
I charge thee by my love,' and so the boy. 
Sweet mother, neither clomb, nor brake his neck, 
But brake his very heart in pining for it, 
And past away." 

To whom the mother said, 
" True love, sweet son, had risk'd himself and 

climb'd, 
And handed down the golden treasure to him." 

And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes, 
•■• Gold? said I gold? — ay then, why he, or sha, 
Or whosoe'er it was, or half the world 
Had ventured — had the thing I spake of been 
Mere gold — but this was all of that true steel, 
Whereof they forged the brand Excalibur, 
And lightnings play'd about it in the storm. 
And all the little fowl were flurried at it, 
And there were cries and clashings in the nest 
That sent him from his senses : let me go." 

Then Bellicent bemoan'd herself and said, 
'• Hast thou no pity upon my loneliness? 
Lo, where thy father Lot beside the hearth 
Lies like a log, and all but smoulder'd out! 
For ever since when traitor to the King 
He fought against him in the Barons' war^ 



194 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And Arthur gave him back his territory, 

His age hath slowly droopt, and now lies there 

A yet-warm corpse, and yet unburiable, 

No more ; nor sees, nor hears, nor speaks, nor knows 

And both thy brethren are in Arthur's hall, 

Albeit neither loved with that full love 

I feel for thee, nor worthy such a love : 

Stay therefore thou ; red berries charm the bird, 

And thee, mine innocent; the jousts, the wars, 

Who never knewest finger-ache, nor pang 

Of wrench'd or broken limb — an often chance 

In those brain-stunning shocks, and tourney-falls. 

Frights to my heart ; but stay : follow the deer 

By these tall firs and our fast-falling burns ; 

So make thy manhood mightier day by day ; 

Sweet is the chase : and I will seek thee out 

Some comfortable bride and fair, to grace 

Thy climbing life, and cherish my prone year, 

Till falling into Lofs forgetfulness 

I know not thee, myself, nor anything. 

Stay, my best son ! ye are yet more boy than man.''' 

Then Gareth, " An ye hold me yet for child. 
Hear yet once more the story of the child. 
For, mother, there was once a King, like ours ; 
The prince his heir, when tall and marriageable, 
Ask'd for a bride ; and thereupon the King 
Set two before him. One was fair, strong, arm'd — 
But to be won by force — and many men 
Desired her ; one, good lack, no man desired. 
And these were the conditions of the King: 



GARETH AND LYNETTE, 195 

That save he won the first by force, he needs 

Must wed that other^, whom no man desired, 

A red-faced bride who knew herself so vile, 

That evermore she long'd to hide herself, 

Nor fronted man or woman, eye to eye — 

Yea — some she cleaved to, but they died of her. 

And one — they call'd her Fame ; and one, O 

Mother, 
Kow can ye keep me tether'd to you — Shame! 
Man am I grown, a man's work must I do. 
Follow the deer? follow the Christ, the King, 
Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King — 



To whom the mother said, 
" Sweet son, for there be many who deem him not, 
Or will not deem him, wholly proven King — 
Albeit in mine own heart I knew him King, 
When I was frequent with him in my youth. 
And heard him kingly speak, and doubted him 
No more than he, himself; but felt him mine, 
Of closest kin to me : yet — wilt thou leave 
Thine easeful biding here, and risk thine all, 
Life, limbs, for one that is not proven King? 
Stay, till the cloud that settles round his birth 
Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweet son." 

And Gareth answered quickly, " Not an hour, 
So that ye yield me — I will walk thro' fire, 
Mother, to gain it — your full leave to go. 
Not proven, who swept the dust of ruin'd Rome 



196 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

From off the threshold of the reahn, and crushed 

The Idolaters, and made the people free? 

Who should be King save him who makes us free?'* 

So when the Queen, who long had sought in vain 
To break him from the intent to which he grew, 
Found her son's will unwaveringly one, 
She answered craftily, "Will ye walk thro' fire? 
Who walks thro' fire will hardly heed the smoke. 
Ay. go then, an ye must : only one proof. 
Before thou ask the King to make thee knight, 
Of thine obedience and thy love to me. 
Thy mother, — I demand." 

And Gareth cried, 
^' A hard one, or a hundred, so I go. 
Np.y — quick! the proof to prove me to the quick!" 

But slowly spake the nfother looking at him, 
*■'- Prince, thou shalt go disguised to Arthur's hall, 
And hire thyself to serve for meats and drinks 
Among the scullions and the kitchen-knaves, 
And those that hand the dish across the bar. 
Nor sjialt thou tell thy name to anyone. 
And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth and a day." 

For so the Queen believed that when her son 
Beheld his only way to glory lead 
Low down thro' villain kitchen-vassalage. 
Her wvn true Gareth was too princely-proud 
To pass thereby ; so should he rest with her, 
Closed in her castle from the sound of arms. 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 197 

Silent awhile was Gareth, then replied, 
" The thrall in person may be free in soul, 
And I shall see the jousts. Thy son am I, 
And since thou art my mother, must obey. 
I therefore yield me freely to thy will ; 
For hence will I, disguised, and hire myself 
To serve with scullions and with kitchen-knaves ; 
Nor tell my name to any — no, not the King." 

Gareth awhile lingered. The mother's eye 
Full of the wistful fear that he would go, 
And turning toward him wheresoever he turn'd, 
Perplext his outward purpose, till an hour, 
When waken'd by the wind which with full vo'ce 
Swept bellowing thro' the darkness on to dawn, 
He rose, and out of slumber calling two 
That still had tended on him from his birth, 
Before the wakeful mother heard him, went. 

The three were clad like tillers of the soil. 
Southward they set their faces. The birds made 
Melody on branch, and melody in mid air. 
The damp hill-slopes were quicken'd into green, 
And the live green had kindled into flowers, 
Yox it was past the time of Easterday.* 

So, when their feet were planted on the plain 
That broaden'd toward the base of Camelot, 
Far off they saw the silver-misty morn 
RoUing her smoke about the Royal mount, 
That rose between the forest and the field. 



198 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

At times the summit of the high city flash'd ; 
At times the spires and turrets half-way down 
Pricked thro' the mist ; at times the great gate shone 
Only, that openM on the field below : 
Anon, the whole fair city had disappear'd. 

Then those who went with Gareth were amazed, 
One crying, " Let us go no further, lord. 
Here is a city of Enchanters, built 
By fairy Kings." The second echo'd him, 
" Lord, we have heard from our wise men at home 
To Northward, that this King is not the King, 
But only changeling out of Fairyland, 
Who drave the heathen hence by sorcery 
And Merlin's glamour." Then the first again, 
" Lord, there is no such city anywhere, 
But all a vision." 

Gareth answer'd them 
With laughter, swearing he had glamour enow 
In his own blood, his princedom, youth and hopes, 
To plunge old Merlin in the Arabian sea ; 
So push'd them all unwilling toward the gate. 
And there was no gate like it under heaven. 
For barefoot on the keystone, which was lined 
And rippled like an ever-fleeting wave, 
The Lady of the Lake stood, all her dress 
Wept from her sides as water flowing away ; 
But like the cross her great and goodly arms 
Stretch'd under all the cornice and upheld : 
And drops of water fell from either hand ; 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 199 

And down from one a sword was hung, from one 

A censer, either worn with wind and storm ; 

And o'er her breast floated the sacred fish ; 

And in the space to left of her, and right, 

Were Arthur's wars in weird devices done, 

New things and old co-twisted, as if Time 

Were nothing, so inveterately, that men 

Were giddy gazing there ; and over all 

High on the top were those three Queens, the 

friends 
Of Arthur, who should help him at his need. 

Then those with Gareth for so long a space 
Stared at the figures, that at last it seem'd 
The dragon-boughts and elvish emblemings 
Began to move, seethe, twine and curl : they call'd 
To Gareth, '' Lord, the gateway is alive." 

And Gareth likewise on them fixt his eyes 
So long, that ev'n to him they seem'd to move. 
Out of the city a blast of music peaPd. 
Back from the gate started the three, to whom 
From out thereunder came an ancient man, 
Long-bearded, saying, "Who be ye, my sons?" 

Then Gareth, " We be tillers of the soil, 
Who leaving share and furrow come to see 
The glories of our King : but these, my men, 
(Your city moved so weirdly in the mist) 
Doubt if the King be King at all, or come 
From fairyland ; and whether this be built 



200 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

By magic, and by fairy Kings and Queens ; 
Or whether there be any city at all, 
Or all a vision : and this music now 
Hath scared them both, but tell thou these the 
truth." 

Then that old Seer made answer, playing on him, 
And saying, " Son, I have seen the good ship sail 
Keel upward and mast downward in the heavens, 
And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air : 
And here is tmth ; but an it please thee not, 
Take thou the truth as thou hast told it me. 
For truly, as thou sayest, a Fairy King 
And Fairy Queens have built the city, son ; 
They came from out a sacred mountain-cleft 
Toward the sunrise, each with harp in hand, 
And built it to the music of their harps. 
And as thou sayest it is enchanted, son, 
For there is nothing in it as it seems 
Saving the King; the' some there be that hold 
The King a shadow, and the city real : 
Yet take thou heed of him, for, so thou pass 
Beneath this archway, then wilt thou become 
A thrall to his enchantments, for the King 
Will bind thee by such vows, as is a shame 
A man should not be bound by, yet the which 
No man can keep ; but, so thou dread to swear, 
Pass not beneath this gateway, but abide 
Without, among the cattle of the field. 
For, an ye heard a music, like enow 
They are building still, seeing the city is built 



CARET II AXD LYNETTE. 2C:. 

To music, therefore never built at all, 
And therefore built forever." 

Gareth spake 
Anger'd, " Old Master, reverence thine own beard 
That looks as white as utter truth, and seems 
Wellnigh as long as thou art statured tall! 
Why mockest thou the stranger that hath been 
To thee fair-spoken ? " 

But the Seer replied, 
" Know ye not then the Riddling of the Bards? 
' Confusion, and illusion, and relation. 
Elusion, and occasion, and evasion?' 
I mock thee not but as thou mockest me. 
And all that see thee, for thou art not who 
Thou seemest, but I know thee who thou art. 
And now thou goest up to mock the King, 
Who cannot brook the shadow of any lie." 

Unmockingly the mocker ending here 
Turned to the right, and past along the plain ; 
Whom Gareth looking after said, " My men, 
Our one white lie sits like a little ghost 
Here on the threshold of our enterprise. 
Let love be blamed for it, not she, nor I : 
Well, we will make amends." 

With all good cheer 
Tie spoke and laugh'd, then enter'd with his twain 
Camelot, a city of shadowy palaces 



202 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And stately, rich in emblem and the work 
Of ancient kings who did their days in stone ; 
Which Merlin's hand, the Mage at Arthur's court, 
Knowing all arts, had touch'd, and everywhere 
At Arthur's ordinance, tipt with lessening peak 
And pinnacle, and had made it spire to heaven. 
And ever and anon a knight would pass 
Outv/ard, or inward to the liall : his arms 
Clash'd ; and the sound was good to Gareth's ear. 
And out of bower and casement shyly glanced 
Eyes of pure women, wholesome stars of love ; 
And all about a healthful people stept 
As in the presence of a gracious king. 

Then into hall Gareth ascending heard 
A voice, the voice of Arthur, and beheld 
Far over heads in that long-vaulted hall 
The splendor of the presence of the King 
Throned, and delivering doom — and look'd no 

more — 
But felt his young heart hammering in his ears, 
And thought, " For this half-shadow of a lie 
The truthful King will doom me when I speak." 
Yet pressing on, tho' all in fear to find 
Sir Gawain or Sir Modred, saw nor one 
Nor other, but in all the listening eyes 
Of those tall knights, that ranged about the throne, 
Clear honor shining like the dewy star 
Of dawn, and faith in their great King, with pure 
Affection, and the light of victory, 
And glory gain'd, and evermore to gain. 



GAKtUI AND LYNETTE. 203 

Then came a widow crying to the King, 
" A boon, Sir King! Thy father, Uther, reft 
From my dead lord a field with violence : 
For howso'er at first he profFer'd gold, 
Yet, for the field was pleasant in our eyes, 
We yielded not ; and then he reft us of it 
Perforce, and left us neither gold nor field." 

Said Arthur, ^Whether would ye? gold or 
field?" 
To whom the woman weeping, '' Nay, my lord, 
The field was .pleasant in my husband's eye." 

And Arthur, '' Have thy pleasant field again, 
And thrice the gold for Uther's use thereof, 
According to the years. No boon is here, 
But justice, so thy say be proven true. 
Accursed, who from the wrongs his father did 
Would shape himself a right! " 

And while she past, 
Came yet another widow crying to him, 
'•'A boon, Sir King! Thine enemy. King, am I. 
With thine own hand thou slewest my dear lord, 
A knight of Uther in the Barons' war. 
When Lot and many another rose and fought 
Against thee, saying thou wert basely born. 
I held with these, and loathe to ask thee aught. 
Yet lo! my husband's brother had my son 
Thrall'd in his castle, and hath starved him dead ; 
And standeth seized of that inheritance 



204 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

Which thou that slewest the sire hast left the son. 
So tho' I scarce can ask it thee for hate, 
Grant me some knight to do the battle for me, 
Kill the foul thief, and wreak me for my son." 

Then strode a good knight forward, crying to him, 
"A boon, Sir King! I am her kinsman, I. 
Give me to right her wrong, and slay the man." 

Then came Sir Kay, the seneschal, and cried, 
"A boon. Sir King! ev'n that thou grant her none, 
This railer, that hath mock'd thee in full hall — 
None ; or the wholesome boon of gyve and gag." 

But Arthur, " We sit. King, to help the wrongM 
Thro' all our realm. The woman loves her lord. 
Peace to thee, woman, with thy loves and hates! 
The kings of old had doomM thee to the -lames, 
Aurelius Emrys would have scourged thee dead, 
And Uther slit thy tongue : but get thee hence — 
Lest that rough humor of the kings of old 
Return upon me! Thou that art her kin, 
Go likewise ; lay him low and slay him not. 
But bring him here, that I may judge the right, 
According to the justice of the King : 
Then, be he guilty, by that deathless King 
Who lived and died for men, the man shall die." 

Then came in hall the messenger of Mark, 
A name of evil savor in the land. 
The Cornish king. In either hand he bore 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 205 

What dazzled all, and shone far-off as shines 
A field of charlock in the sudden sun 
Between two showers, a cloth of palest gold, 
Which down he laid before the throne, and knelt, 
Delivering, that his lord, the vassal king, 
Was ev'n upon his way to Camelot ; 
For having heard that Arthur of his grace 
Had made his goodly cousin, Tristram, knight, 
And, for himself was of the greater state, 
Being a king, he trusted his liege-lord 
Would yield him this large honor all the more ; 
vSo pray'd him well to accept this cloth of gold, 
In token of true heart and fealty. 

Then Arthur cried to rend the cloth, to rend 
In pieces, and so cast it on the hearth. 
An oak-tree smouldered there. " The goodly 

knight ! 
What! shall the shield of Mark stand among these?" 
For, midway down the side of that long hall 
A stately pile, — whereof along the front. 
Some blazoned, some but carven, and some blank, 
There ran a treble range of stony shields, — 
Rose, and high-arching overbrow'd the hearth. 
And under every shield a knight was named : 
For this was Arthur's custom in his hall ; 
When some good knight had done one noble deed, 
His arms were carven only ; but if twain 
His arms were blazon'd also ; but if none 
The shield was blank and bare without a sign 
Saving the name beneath ; and Gareth saw 



206 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

The shield of Gawain blazoned rich and bright, 
And Modred's blank as death : and Arthur cried 
To rend the cloth and cast it on the hearth. 

" More like are we to reave him of his crown 
Than make him knight because men call him king. 
The .kings we found, ye know we stayM their hands 
From war among themselves, but left them kings ; 
Of whom were any bounteous, merciful. 
Truth-speaking, brave, good livers, them we enrolled 
Among us, and they sit within our hall. 
But Mark hath tarnished the great name of king, 
As Mark would sully the low state of churl : 
And, seeing he hath sent us cloth of gold. 
Return, and meet, and hold him from our eyes, 
Lest we should lap him up in cloth of lead. 
Silenced forever — craven — a man of plots, 
Craft, poisonous counsels, wayside ambushings — 
No fault of thine : let Kay the seneschal 
Look to thy wants, and send thee satisfied — 
Accursed, who strikes nor lets the hand be seen ! " 

And many another suppliant crying came 
With noise of ravage wrought by beast and man. 
And evermore a knight would ride away. 

Last, Gareth leaning both hands heavily 
Down on the shoulders of the twain, his men. 
Approached between them toward the King, and 

ask'd, 
^^A boon, Sir King (his voice was all ashamed), 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 1<;)1 

For see ye not how weak and hungerworn 
I seem — leaning on these ? grant me to serve 
For meat and drink among thy kitchen-knaves 
A twelvemonth and a day, nor seek my name. 
Hereafter I will fight." 

To him the King, 
" A goodly youth and worth a goodlier boon ! 
But an thou wilt no goodlier, then must Kay, 
The master of the meats and drinks, be thine." 

He rose and past ; then Kay, a man of mien 
Wan-sallow as the plant that feels itself 
Root-bitten by white lichen, 

" Lo ye now! 
This fellow hath broken from some Abbey, where, 
God wot, he had not beef and brewis enow, 
However that might chance! but an he work, 
Like any pigeon will I cram his crop. 
And sleeker shall he shine than any hog." 

Then Lancelot standing near, " Sir Seneschal, 
Sleuth-hound thou knowest, and gray, and all the 

hounds 
A horse thou knowest, a man thou dost not know : 
Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair and fine, 
High nose, a nostril large and fine, and hands 
Large, fair and fine ! — Some young lad's mystery — 
But, or from sheepcot or king's hall, the boy 
Is noble-natured. Treat him with all grace, 
Lest he should come to shame thy judging of him." 



208 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then Kay, "What murmurest thou of mystery? 
Think ye this fellow will poison the King's dish? 
Nay, for he spake too fool-like : mystery ! 
Tut, and the lad were noble, he had ask'd 
For horse and armor : fair and fine, forsooth! 
Sir Fine-face, Sir Fair-hands? but see thou to it 
That thine own fineness, Lancelot, some fine day 
Undo thee not — and leave my man to me." 

So Gareth all for glory underwent 
The sooty yoke of kitchen vassalage ; 
Ate with young lads his portion by the door, 
And couch'd at night with grimy kitchen-knaves. 
And Lancelot ever spake him pleasantly. 
But Kay, the seneschal, who loved him not. 
Would hustle and harry him, and labor him 
Beyond his comrade of the hearth, and set 
To turn the broach, draw water, or hew wood, 
Or grosser tasks ; and Gareth bow'd himself 
With all obedience to the King, and wrought 
All kind of service with a noble ease 
That graced the lowliest act in doing it. 
And when the thralls had talk among themselves, 
And one would praise the love that linkt the King 
And Lancelot — how the King had saved his life 
In battle twice, and Lancelot once the King's — 
For Lancelot was the first in Tournament, 
But Arthur mightiest on the battlefield — 
Gareth was glad. Or if some other told. 
How once the wandering forester at dawn, 
Far over the blue tarns and hazy seas. 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 209 

On Caer-Eryrfs highest found the King, 

A naked babe, of whom the Prophet spake, 

" He passes to the Isle AviUon, 

He passes and is heaPd and cannot die'' — 

Gareth was glad. But if their talk were foul, 

Then would he whistle rapid as any lark. 

Or carol some old roundelay, and so loud 

That first they mock'd, but, after, reverenced him. 

Or Gareth telling some prodigious tale 

Of knights, who sliced a red life-bubbling way 

Thro' twenty folds of twisted dragon, held 

All in a gap-mouth'd circle his good mates 

Lying or sitting round him, idle hands, 

Charm'd ; till Sir Kay, the seneschal, would come 

Blustering upon them, like a sudden wind 

Among dead leaves, and drive them all apart. 

Or when the thralls had sport among themselves, 

So there were any trial of mastery. 

He, by two yards in casting bar or stone 

Was counted best ; and if there chanced a joust, 

So that Sir Kay nodded him leave to go, 

Would hurry thither, and when he saw the knights 

Clash like the coming and retiring wave. 

And the spear spring, and good horse reel, the boy 

Was half beyond himself for ecstasy. 

So for a month he wrought among the thralls ; 
But in the weeks that follow'd, the good Queen» 
Repentant of the word she made him sware, 
And saddening in her childless castle, sent, 
Between the increscent and decrescent moon, 
Arms for her son, and loosed him from his vow. 



210 IDYLS OF THE K/XG. 

This, Gareth hearing from a squire of Lot 
With whom he used to play at tourney once, 
When both were children, and in lonely haunts 
Would scratch a ragged oval on the sand. 
And each at either dash from either end — 
Shame never made girl redder than Gareth joy. 
He laugh'd ; he sprang. " Out of the smoke, at once 
I leap from Satan's foot to Peter's knee — 
These news be mine, none other's — nay, the 

King's — 
Descend into the city : " whereon he sought 
The King alone, and found, and told him all. 

" I have stagger'd thy strong Gawain in a tilt 
For pastime : yea, he said it, joust can I. 
Make me thy knight — in secret ! let my name 
Be hidd'n, and give me the first quest, I spring 
Like flame from ashes." 

Here the King's calm eye 
Fell on, and check'd, and made him flush, and bow 
Lowly, to kiss his hand, who answer'd him, 
" Son, the good mother let me know thee here, 
And sent her wish that I would yield thee thine. 
Make thee my knight ? my knights are sworn to vows 
Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness, 
And, loving, utter faithfulness in love. 
And uttermost obedience to the King." 

Then Gareth, lightly springing from his knees, 
** My King, for hardihood I can protnise thee. 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 211 

For uttermost obedience make demand 
Of whom ye gave me to, the Seneschal, 
No mellow master of the meats and drinks! 
And as for love, God wot, I love not yet, 
But love I shall, God willing." 

And the King — 
'^ Make thee my knight in secret ? yea, but he, 
Our noblest brother, and our truest man. 
And one with me in all, he needs must know." 

" Let Lancelot know, my King, let Lancelot know, 
Thy noblest and thy truest!" 

And the King — 
" But wherefore would ye men should wonder at 

you? 
Nay, rather for the sake of me, their King, 
And the deed's sake my knighthood do the deed, 
Than to be noised of." 

Merrily Gareth ask'd, 
'- Have I not earn'd my cake in baking of it? 
Let be my name until I make my name! 
My deeds will speak : it is but for a day." 
So with a kindly hand on Gareth's arm 
Smiled the great King, and half-unwillingly, 
Loving his lusty youthhood, yielded to him. 
Then, after summoning Lancelot privily, 
'' I have given him the first quest : he is not proven. 
Look therefore when he calls for this in hall, 
Tho" get to horse and follow him far away. 



212 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Cover the lions on thy shield, and see 

Far as thou mayest, he be nor ta'en nor slain.'* 

Then that same day there past into the hall 
A damsel of high lineage, and a brow 
May-blossom, and a cheek of apple-blossom, 
Hawk-eyes ; and lightly was her slender nose 
Tip-tilted like the petal of a flower ; 
She into hall past with her page and cried, 

" O King, for thou hast driven the foe without, 
See to the foe within! bridge, ford, beset 
By bandits, every one that owns a tower 
The Lord for half a league. Why sit ye there? 
Rest would I not, Sir King, an I were king. 
Till ev'n the lonest hold were all as free 
From cursed bloodshed, as thine altar-cloth 
From that blest blood it is a sin to spill." 

" Comfort thyself," said Arthur, " I nor mine 
Rest : so my knighthood keep the vows they swore, 
The wastest moorland of our realm shall be 
Safe, damsel, as the centre of this hall. 
What is thy name ? thy need .'* " 

"My name?" she said — 
" Lynette my name ; noble ; my need, a knight 
To combat for my sister, Lyonors, 
A lady of high lineage, of great lands, 
And comely, yea, and comelier than myself. 
She lives in Castle Perilous : a river 
Runs in three loops about her living-place ; 



GARE TH AND L YNE TTE. 213 

And o'er it are three passings, and three knights. 

Defend the passings, brethren, and a fourth. 

And of that four the mightiest, holds her stay'd 

In her own castle, and so besieges her 

To break her will, and make her wed with him : 

And but delays his purport till thou send 

To do the battle with him, thy chief man. 

Sir Lancelot, whom he trusts to overthrow. 

Then wed, with glory ; but she will not wed 

Save whom she loveth, or a holy life. 

Now therefore have I come for Lancelot." 



*' Damsel, ye know this Order lives to crush 

All wrongers of the Realm. But say, these four^ 

Who be they? What the fashion of the men?' 

" They be of foolish fashion, O Sir King, 
The fashion of that old knight-errantry 
Who ride abroad and do but what they will ; 
Courteous or bestial from the moment, such 
As have nor law nor king; and three of these 
Proud in their fantasy call themselves the Day, 
Morning-Star, and Noon-Sun, and Evening-Star, 
Being strong fools ; and never a whit more wise 
The fourth, who alway rideth arm'd in black, 
A huge man-beast of boundless savagery. 
He names himself the Night and oftener Death, 
And wears a helmet mounted with a skull. 
And bears a skeleton figured on his arms. 
To show that who may slay or scape the three 



214 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Slain by himself shall enter endless night. 
And all these four be fools, but mighty men, 
And therefore am I come for Lancelot." 

Hereat Sir Gareth calPd from where he rose, 
A head with kindling eyes above the throng, 
^'A boon. Sir King — this quest!" then — for he 

markM 
Kay near him groaning like a wounded bull — 
'•Yea, King, thou knowest thy kitchen-knave am I, 
And mighty thro' thy meats and drinks am I, 
And I can topple over a hundred such. 
Thy promise, King," and Arthur glancing at him, 
Brought down a momentary brow. " Rough, sud- 
den, 
And pardonable, worthy to be knight — 
Go therefore," and all hearers were amazed. 

But on the damsel's forehead shame, pride, wrath, 
Slew the May-white : she lifted either arm, 
'"Fie on thee. King! I ask'd for thy chief knight. 
And thou hast given me but a kitchen-knave." 
Then ere a man in hall could stay her, turn'd. 
Fled down the lane of access to the King, 
Took horse, descended the slope street, and past 
The weird white gate, and paused without, beside 
The field of tourney, murmuring " kitchen-knave." 

Now two great entries openM from the hall. 
At one end one, that gave upon a range 
Of level pavement where the King would pace 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 215 

At sunrise, gazing over plain and wood. 

And down from this a lordly stairway sloped 

Till lost in blowing trees and tops of towers. 

And out by this main doorway past the King. 

But one was counter to the hearth, and rose 

High that the highest-crested helm could ride 

Therethro' nor graze : and by this entry fled 

The damsel in her wrath, and on to this 

Sir Gareth strode, and saw without the door 

King Arthur^s gift, the worth of half a town, 

A warhorse of the best, and near it stood^ 

The two that out of north had follow^ him : 

This bare a maiden shield, a casque ; that held 

The horse, the spear ; whereat Sir Gareth loosed 

A cloak that dropt from collar-bone to heel, 

A cloth of roughest web, and cast it down. 

And from it like a fuel-smother'd fire, 

That lookt half-dead, brake bright, and flash'd as 

those 
Dull-coated things, that making slide apart 
Their dusk wing-cases, all beneath there burns 
A jewell'd harness, ere they pass and fly. • 
So Gareth ere he parted flashed in arms. 
Then while he donn'd the helm, and took the shield 
And mounted horse and graspt a spear, of grain 
Storm-strengthen'd on a windy site, and tipt 
With trenchant steel, around him slowly prest 
The people, and from out of kitchen came 
The thralls in throng, and seeing who had work'd 
Lustier than any, and whom they could but love, 
Mounted in arms, threw up their caps and cried. 



216 IDYLS 01^ THE KING. 

^•God bless the King, and all his fellowship! " 
And on thro' lanes of shouting Gareth rode 
Down the slope street, and past without the gate. 

Sc Gareth past with joy ; but as the cur 
Pluckt from the cur he fights with, ere his cause 
Be cooPd by fighting, follows, being named, 
His owner, but remembers all, and growls 
Remembering, so Sir Kay beside the door 
Mutter'd in scorn of Gareth whom he used 
To harry and hustle. 

" Bound upon a quest 
With horse and arms — the King hath past his 

time — 
My scullion knave! Thralls to your work again, 
For an your fire be low ye kindle mine ! 
Will there be dawn in West and eve in East ? 
Begone ! — my knave ! — belike and like enow 
Some old head-blow not heeded in his youth 
So shook his wits they wander in his prime — 
Crazed! How the villain lifted up his voice. 
Nor shamed to bawl himself a kitchen-knave. 
Tut : he was tame and meek enow with me, 
Til peacock'd up with Lancelot's noticing. 
Weil — I will after my loud knave, and learn 
Whether he know me for his master yet. 
Out of the smoke he came, and so my lance 
Hold, by God's grace, he shall into the mire — 
Thence, if the King awaken from hir craze, 
Into the smoke auain." 



GARETH AND LYNETTE, 217 

But Lancelot said, 
" Kay, wherefore will ye go against the King, 
For that did never he whereon ye rail, 
But ever meekly served 1-^ King in thee? 
Abide ; take counsel ; ic: this lad is great 
And lusty, and knowing both of lance and sword.'' 
"Tut, tell not me," said Kay, "ye are overfine 
To mar stout knaves with foolish courtesies." 
Then mounted, on thro' silent faces rode 
Down the slope city, and out beyond the gate. 

But by the field of tourney lingering yet 
Mutter'd the damsel, " Wherefore did the King 
Scorn me ? for, were Sir Lancelot lackt, at least 
He might have yielded to me one of those 
Who tilt for lady's love and glory here. 
Rather than — Q sweet heaven! O fie upon him — 
His kitchen-knave." 

To whom Sir Gareth drew 
(And there were none but few goodlier than he) 
Shining in arms, " Damsel, the quest is mine. 
Lead, and I follow." She thereat, as one 
That smells a foul-flesh'd agaric in the holt. 
And deems it carrion of some woodland thing, 
Or shrew, or weasel, nipt her slender nose 
With petulant thumb and finger, shrilling, " Hence! 
Avoid, thou smellest all of kitchen-grease. 
And look who comes behind," for there was Kay. 
'• Knowest thou not me? thy master? I am Kay. 
We lack thee by the hearth." 



218 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And Gareth to him, 
" Master no more! too well I know thee, ay — 
The most ungentle knight in Arthur''s hall." 
" Have at thee then," said Kay : they shocked, and 

Kay 
Fell shoulder-slipt, and Gareth cried again, 
" Lead, and I follow," and fast away she fled. 

But after sod and shingle ceased to fly 
Behind her, and the heart of her good horse 
Was nigh to burst with violence of the beat, 
Perforce she stayed, and overtaken spoke. 

"What doest thou, scullion, in my fellowship? 
Deem'st thou that I accept thee aught the more 
Or love thee better, that by some device 
Full cowardly, or by mere unhappiness. 
Thou hast overthrown and slain thy master — 

thou ! — 
Dish-washer and broach-turner, loon! — to me 
Thou smellest all of kitchen as before." 

"Damsel," Sir Gareth answ^er'd gently, "say 
Whatever ye will, but whatsoe'er ye say, 
I leave not till I finish this fair quest, 
Or die therefore." 

" Ay, wilt thou finish it ? 
Sweet lord, how like a noble knight he talks! 
The listening rogue hath caught the manner of it. 
But, knave, anon thoi' shalt be met with, knave, 




"Look how she sleeps — the Fairy Queen., 
so fail- ! " 



GARE TH AND L YNE TTE. 2] 9 

And then by such a one that thou for all 
The kitchen brewis that was ever supt 
•Shalt not once dare to look him in the face." 

" I shall assay/' said Gareth with a smile 
That madden'd her, and away she flashed again 
Down the long avenues of a boundless wood, 
And Gareth following was again beknaved. 

" Sir Kitchen-knave, I have miss'd the only way 
Where Arthur's men are set along the wood ; 
The wood is nigh as full of thieves as leaves : 
If both be slain, I am rid of thee ; but yet, 
Sir Sculhon, canst thou use that spit of thine? 
Fight, and thou canst : I have miss'd the only way." 

So till the dusk that followed evensong 
Rode on the two, reviler and reviled ; 
Then after one long slope was mounted, saw. 
Bowl-shaped, thro' tops of many thousand pines 
A gloomy-gladed hollow slowly sink 
To westward — in the deeps whereof a mere, 
Round as the red eye of an Eagle-owl, 
Under the half-dead sunset glared ; and shouts 
Ascended, and there brake a servingman 
Flying from out of the black wood, and crying, 
" They have bound my lord to cast him in the mere." 
Then Gareth, " Bound am I to right the wrong'd, 
But straitlier bound am I to bide with thee." 
And when the damsel spake contemptuously, 
" Lead and I follow," Gareth cried again. 



220 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

" Follow, I lead! " so down among the pines 

He plunged; and there, blackshadowM nigh th-e 

mere, 
And mid-thigh-deep in bulrushes and reed, 
Saw six tall men haling a seventh along, 
A stone about his neck to drown him in it. 
Three with good blows he quieted, but three 
Fled thro*" the pines ; and Gareth loosed the stone 
From off his neck, then in the mere beside 
Tumbled it ; oilily bubbled up the mere 
Last, Gareth loosed his bonds and on free feet 
Set him, a stalwart Baron, Arthur's friend. 

" Well that ye came, or else these caitiff rogues 
Had wreak'd themselves on me ; good cause is theirs 
To hate me, for my wont hath ever been 
To catch my thief, and then like vermin here 
Drown him, and with a stone about his neck ; 
And under this wan water many of them 
Lie rotting, but at night let go the stone, 
And rise, and flickering in a grimly light 
Dance on the mere. Good now, ye have saved a 

life 
Worth somewhat as the cleanser of this wood. 
And fain would I reward thee worshipfuUy. 
What guerdon will ye?" 

Gareth sharply spake, 
"None! for the deed^'s sake have I done the deed, 
In uttermost obedience to the King. 
But will ye yield this damsel harborage ? " 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 221 

Whereat the Baron saying, " I well believe 
Ye be of Arthur's Table/' a light laugh 
Broke from Lynette, " Ay, truly of a truth, 
And in a sort, being Arthur's kitchen-knave! — 
But deem not I accept thee aught the more, 
Scullion, for running sharply with thy spit 
Down on a rout of craven foresters. 
A thresher with his flail had scattered them. 
Nay — for thou smellest of the kitchen still. 
But an this lord will yield us harborage, 
Well." 

So she spake. A league beyond the wood, 
All in a full-fair manor and a rich, 
His towers where that day a feast had been 
Held in high hall, and many a viand left. 
And many a costly cate, received the three. 
And there they placed a peacock in his pride 
Before the damsel, and the Baron set 
Gareth beside her, but at once she rose. 

" Meseems, that here is much discourtesy, 
Setting this knave. Lord Baron, at my side. 
Hear me — this morn I stood in Arthur's hall, 
And pray'd the King would grant me Lancelot 
To fight the brotherhood of Day and Night — 
The last a monster unsubduable 
Of any save of him for whom I call'd — 
Suddenly bawls this frontless kitchen-knave, 
'• The quest is mine ; thy kitchen-knave am I, 
And mighty thro' thy meats and drinks am L' 



222 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then Arthur all at once gone mad replies, 
'- Go therefore,' and so gives the quest to him — 
Him — here — a villain fitter to stick swine 
Than ride abroad redressing women's wrong, 
Or sit beside a noble gentlewoman." 

Then half-ashamed and part-amazed, the lord 
Now look'd at one and now at other, left 
The damsel by the peacock in his pride. 
And, seating Gareth at another board. 
Sat down beside him, ate and then began. 

'" Friend, whether ye be kitchen-knave, or not, 
Or whether it be the maiden's fantasy, 
And whether she be mad, or else the King, 
Or both or neither, or thyself be mad, 
I ask not : but thou strikest a strong stroke, 
For strong thou art and goodly therewithal, 
And saver of my life ; and therefore now. 
For here be mighty men to joust with, weigh 
Whether thou wilt not with thy damsel back 
To crave again Sir Lancelot of the King. 
Thy pardon ; I but speak for thine avail. 
The saver of my life." 

And Gareth said, 
" Full pardon, but I follow up the quest. 
Despite of Day and Night and Death and Hell." 

So when, next morn, the lord whose life he saved 
Had, some brief space, convey'd them on their way 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. Ill 

And left them with God-speed, Sir Gareth spake, 
" Lead and I follow." Haughtily she replied, 

" I fly no more : I allow thee for an hour. 
Lion and stoat have isled together, knave, 
In time of flood. Nay, furthermore, methinks 
Some ruth is mine for thee. Back wilt thou, fo(^? 
For hard by here is one will overthrow 
And slay thee ; then will I to court again. 
And shame the King for only yielding me 
My champion from the ashes of his hearth." 

To whom Sir Gareth answer'd courteously, 
" Say thou thy say, and I will do my deed. 
Allow me for mine hour, and thou wilt find 
My fortunes all as fair as hers, who lay 
Among the ashes and wedded the King's son.'" 

Then to the shore of one of those long loops 
Wherethro' the serpent river coiPd, they came. 
Rough-thicketed were the banks and steep ; the 

stream 
Full, narrow ; this a bridge of single arc 
Took at a leap ; and on the further side 
Arose a silk pavilion, gay with gold 
In streaks and rays, and all Lent-lily in hue, 
Save that the dome was purple, and above, 
Crimson, a slender banneret fluttering. 
And therebefore the lawless warrior paced 
Unarmed, and calling, " Damsel, is this he. 
The champion ye have brought from Arthur's hail, 



224 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

For whom we let thee pass ? " " Nay, nay," she said, 
" Sir Morning-Star. The King in utter scorn 
Of thee and thy much folly hath sent thee here 
His kitchen-knave : and look thou to thyself: 
See that he fall not on thee suddenly, 
And slay thee unarmed : he is not knight but knave.*' 

Then at his call, " O daughters of the Dawn, 
And servants of the Morning-Star approach, 
Arm me," from out the silken curtain-folds 
Bare-footed and bare-headed three fair girls 
In gilt and rosy raiment came : their feet 
In dewy grasses glistened ; and the hair 
All over glanced with dewdrop or with gem 
Like sparkles in the stone Avanturine. 
These armM him in blue arms, and gave a shield 
Blue also, and thereon the morning star. 
And Gareth silent gazed upon the knight. 
Who stood a moment, ere his horse was brougnt, 
Glorying; and in the stream beneath him, shone, 
Immingled with Heaven's azure waveringly, 
The gay pavilion and the naked feet, 
His arms, the rosy raiment, and the star. 



Then she that watch'd him, " Wherefore stare ye 

so? 
Thou shakest in thy fear : there yet is time : 
Flee down the valley before he get to horse. 
Who will cry shame? Thou art not knight but 

knave." 



CARET H AND LYNETTE. Ill 

Said Gareth, ■=' Damsel, whether knave or knight. 
Far liefer had I fight a score of times 
Than hear thee so missay me and revile. 
Fair words were best for him who fights for thee ; 
But truly foul are better, for they send 
That strength of anger thro' mine arms, I know 
That I shall overthrow him." 

And he that bore 
The star, being mounted, cried from o'er the bridge, 
" A kitchen-knave, and sent in scorn of me! 
Such fight not I, but answer scorn with scorn. 
Yox this were shame to do him. further wrong 
Than set him on his feet, and take his horse 
And arms, and so return him to the King. 
Come, therefore, leave thy lady lightly, knave. 
Avoid : for it beseemeth not a knave 
To ride with such a lady." 

" Dog, thou liest. 
I spring from loftier lineage than thine own." 
He spake ; and all at fiery speed the two 
Shock'd on the central bridge, and either spear 
Bent but not brake, and either knight at once, 
HurPd as a stone from out of a catapult 
Beyond his horse's crupper and the bridge, 
Fell, as if dead ; but quickly rose and drew. 
And Gareth lash'd so fiercely with his brand 
He drave his enemy backward down the bridge, 
The damsel crying, " Well-stricken, kitchen-knave ! ■■' 
Till Gareth's shield was cloven ; but one stroke 
Laid him that clove it grovelling on the ground. 



226 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then cried the falPn, " Take not my life : I yield.'- 
And Gareth, " So this damsel ask it of me 
Good — I accord it easily as a grace." 
She reddening, " Insolent scullion : I of thee? 
I bound to thee for any favor ask'd ! " 
" Then shall he die." And Gareth there unlaced 
His helmet as to slay him, but she shriek'd, 
" Be not so hardy, scullion, as to slay 
One nobler than thyself." " Damsel, thy charge 
Is an abounding pleasure to me. Knight, 
Thy life is thine at her command. Arise 
And quickly pass to Arthur's hall, and say 
His kitchen-knave hath sent thee. See thou 

crave 
His pardon for thy breaking of his laws. 
Myself, when I return, will plead for thee. 
Thy shield is mine — farewell ; and, damsel, thou, 
Lead, and I follow." 

And fast away she fled. 
Then when he came upon her, spake, " Methought, 
Knave, when I watch'd thee striking on the bridge 
The savor of thy kitchen came upon me 
A little faintlier : but the wind hath changed : 
I scent it twentyfold." And then she sang, 
" ' O morning star' (not that tall felon there 
Whom thou by sorcery or unhappiness 
Or some device, hast foully overthrown), 
' O morning star that smilest in the blue, 
O star, my morning dream hath proven true, 
Smile sweetly, thou! my love hath smiled on me.* 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. Ill 

" But thou begone, take counsel, and away, 
For hard by here is one that guards a ford — 
The second brother in their fooPs parable — 
Will pay thee all thy wages, and to boot. 
Care not for shame : thou art not knight but knave." 

To whom Sir Gareth answered, laughingly, 
" Parables ? Hear a parable of the knave. 
When I was kitchen-knave among the rest 
Fierce was the hearth, and one of my co-mates 
Own'd a rough dog, to whom he cast his coat, 
* Guard it,' and there was none to meddle with it. 
And such a coat art thou, and thee the King 
Gave me to guard, and such a dog am I, 
To worry, and not to flee — and — knight or knave — 
The knave that doth thee service as full knight 
Is all as good, meseems, as any knight 
Toward thy sister's freeing." 

"Ay, Sir Knave! 
Ay, knave, because thou strikest as a knight, 
Being but knave, I hate thee all the more." 

"Fair damsel, ye should worship me the more, 
That, being but knave, I throw thine enemies." 

"Ay, ay," she said, "but thou shalt meet thy 
match." 

So when they touch'd the second river-loop, 
Huge on a huge red horse, and all in mail 



228 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

BurnishM to blinding, shown the Noonday Sun 
Beyond a raging shallow. As if the flower, 
That blows a. globe of after arrowlets. 
Ten thousand-fold had grown, flashed the fierce 

shield, 
All sun ; and Gareth's eyes had flying blots 
Before them when he turn'd from watching him. 
He from beyond the roaring shallow roar'd, 
"What doest thou, brother, in my marches here?" 
And she athwart the shallow shrill'd again, 
'• Here is a kitchen-knave from Arthur's hall 
Hath overthrown thy brother, and hath his arms." 
*' Ugh ! '' cried the Sun, and vizoring up a red 
And cipher face of rounded foolishness. 
Pushed horse across the foamings of the ford. 
Whom Gareth met midstream : no room was there 
For lance or tourney-skill : four strokes they struck 
With sword, and these were mighty ; the new knight 
Had fear he might be shamed ; but as the Sun 
Heaved up a ponderous arm to strike the fifth. 
The hoof of his horse slipt in the stream, the stream 
Descended, and the Sun was washed away. 

Then Gareth laid his lance athwart the ford ; 
So drew him home ; but he that fought no more. 
As being all bone-batterM on the rock, 
Yielded ; and Gareth sent him to the King. 
" Myself when I return will plead for thee. 
Lead, and I follow." Quietly she led. 
" Hath not the good wind, damsel, changed again ?''• 
" Nay, not a point : nor art thou victor here. 



CARET H AND LYNETTE. 229 

There lies a ridge of slate across the ford ; 
His horse thereon stumbled — ay, for I saw it. 

" ^ O Sun ' (not this strong fool whom thou, Sir 
Knave, 
Hast overthrown thro' mere unhappiness), 
^ O Sun, that wakenest all to bliss or pain, 
O moon, that layest all to sleep again, 
Shine sweetly : twice my love hath smiled on me.' 

" What knowest thou of lovesong or of love? 
Nay, nay, God wot, so thou wert nobly born. 
Thou hast a pleasant presence. Yea, perchance, — 

" ' O dewy flowers that open to the sun, 
O dewy flowers that close when day is done. 
Blow sweetly : twice my love hath smiled on me.' 

"What knowest thou of flowers, except, belike,. 
To garnish meats with ? hath not our good King 
Who lent me thee, the flower of kitchendom, 
A foolish love for flowers ? what stick ye round 
The pasty ? wherewithal deck the boar's head ? 
Flowers ? nay, the boar hath rosemaries and bay. 

" '■ O birds, that warble to the morning sky, 
O birds that warble as the day goes by, 
Sing sweetly ; twice my love hath smiled on me.' 

"What knowest thou of birds, lark, mavis, merle, 
Linnet? what dream ye when they utter forth 



230 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

May-music growing with the growing light, 
Their sweet sun-worship? these be for the snare 
(So runs thy fancy) these be for the spit, 
Larded thy last, except thou turn and fly. 
There stands the third fool of their allegory." 

For there beyond a bridge of treble bow, 
All in a rose-red from the west, and all 
Naked it seem'd, and glowing in the broad 
Deep-dimpled current underneath, the knight. 
That named himself the Star of Evening, stood. 

And Gareth, " Wherefore waits the madman there 
Naked in open dayshine?" " Nay," she cried, 
" Not naked, only wrapt in hardened skins 
That fit him like his own ; and so ye cleave 
His armor off him, these will turn the blade." 

Then the third brother shouted o'er the bridge, 
" O brother-star, why shine ye here so low .? 
Thy ward is higher up : but have ye slain 
The damsePs champion?" and the damsel cried, 

" No star of thine, but shot from Arthur's heaven 
With all disaster unto thine and thee! 
For both thy younger brethren have gone down 
Before this youth ; and so wilt thou. Sir Star ; 
Art thou not old?" 

" Old, damsel, old and hard — 
Old, with the might and breath of twenty boys." 
Said Gareth, "Old, and over-bold in brag! 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 231 

But that same strength which threw in Morning- 
Star 
Can throw the Evening." 

Then that other blew 
'V hard and deadly note upon the horn. 
' Approach and arm me ! " With slow steps from out 
,\n old storm-beaten, russet, many-stain'd 
pavilion, forth a grizzled damsel came, 
And arm'd him in old arms, and brought a helm 
With but a drying evergreen for crest, 
And gave a shield whereon the Star of Even 
Half-tarnish'd and half-bright, his emblem, shone. 
But when it glittered o'er the saddle-bow, 
They madly hurPd together on the bridge ; 
And Gareth overthrew him, lighted, drew, 
There met him drawn, and overthrew him again, 
But up like fire he started : and as oft 
As Gareth brought him grovelling on his knees, 
So many a time he vaulted up again ; 
Till Gareth panted hard, and his great heart, 
Foredooming all his trouble was in vain. 
Labored within him, for he seem'd as one 
That all in later, sadder age begins 
To war against ill uses of life, 
But these from all his life arise, and cry, 
"Thou hast made us lords, and canst not put us 

down!" 
He half despairs ; so Gareth seem'd to strike 
Vainly, the damsel clamoring all ihe while, 
"Well don^, knave -knght^ weU-stricken, O good 

knight -I'oavo — 



232 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

O knave, as noble as any of all the knights — 
Shame me not, shame me not. I have prophe- 
sied — 
Strike, thou art worthy of the Table Round — 
His arms are old, he trusts the hardened skin — 
Strike — strike — the wind will never change again.'" 
And Gareth hearing ever stronglier smote, 
And hew'd great pieces of his armor off him, 
But lash'd in vain against the hardened skin, 
And could not wholly bring him under, more 
Than loud Southwesterns, rolling ridge on ridge, 
The buoy that rides at sea, and dips and springs 
For ever ; till at length Sir Gareth's brand 
Clashed his, and brake it utterly to the hilt. 
" I have thee now ; " but forth that other sprang, 
And, all unknightlike, writhed his wiry arms 
Around him, till Ae /elt, despite his mail. 
Strangled, but straining ev'n his uttermost 
Cast, and so hurl'd him headlong o'er the bridge 
Down to the river, sink or swim, and cried, 
" Lead, and I follow." 



*' I lead no longer ; ride thou at my side ; 
Thou art the kingliest of all kitchen-knaves. 

" ^ O trefoil, sparkling on the rainy plain, 
O rainbow with three colors after rain, 
Shine sweetly : thrice my love hath smiled on 



and, good faith, I fain had added — 
ght, 
But that I heard thee call thyself a knave, — 



Knight, 



GAREl^H AND LYNETTE. 233 

Shamed am I that I so rebuked, reviled, 

Missaid thee ; noble I am ; and thought the King 

Scorn'd me and mine ; and now thy pardon, friend, 

For thou hast ever answer'd courteously. 

And wholly bold thou art, and meek withal 

As any of Arthur^'s best, but, being knave, 

Hast mazed my wit : I marvel what thou art." 

" Damsel," he said, " ye be not all to blame, 
Saving that ye mistrusted our good King 
Would handle scorn, or yield thee, asking, one 
Not fit to cope thy quest. Ye said your say ; 
Mine answer was my deed. Good sooth! I hold 
He scarce is knight, yea but half-man, nor meet 
To fight for gentle damsel, he, who lets 
His heart be stirr'd with any foolish heat 
At any gentle damsel's waywardness. 
Shamed ? care not ! thy foul sayings fought for me : 
And seeing now thy words are fair, methinks. 
There rides no knight, not Lancelot, his great self, 
Hath force to quell me." 

Nigh upon that hour 
When the lone hern forgets h's melancholy. 
Lets down his other leg, and stretching, dreams 
Of goodly supper in the distant pool, 
Then turned the noble damsel smiling at him. 
And told him of a cavern hard at hand. 
Where bread and baken meats and good red wine 
Of Southland, which the Lady Lyonors 
Hs»4 sent her coming champion, waited him. 



234 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Anon they past a narrow comb wherein 
Were slabs of rock with figures, knights on horse 
Sculptured, and deckt in slowly-waning hues. 
" Sir Knave, my knight, a hermit once was here, 
Whose holy hand hath fashion'd on the rock 
The war of Time against the soul of man. 
And yon four fools have suck'd their allegory 
From these damp walls, and taken but the form. 
Know ye not these?" and Gareth lookt and read — 
In letters like to those the vexillary 
Hath left crag-carven o'er the streaming Gelt — 
'•'• Phosphorus," then " Meridies " — " Hespe- 
rus " — 
^' Nox " — " Mors," beneath five figures, armed 

men. 
Slab after slab, their faces forward all. 
And running down the Soul, a Shape that fled 
With broken wings, torn raiment and loose hair, 
For help and shelter to the hermit's cave. 
'^' Follow the faces, and we find it. Look, 
Who comes behind?" 

For one — delay'd at first 
Thro' helping back the dislocated Kay 
To Camelot, then by what thereafter chanced. 
The damsel's headlong error thro' the wood — 
Sir Lancelot, having swum the river-loops — 
His blue shield-lions cover'd — softly drew 
Behind the twain, and when he saw the star 
Gleam, on Sir Gareth's turning to him, cried, 
*' Stay, felon knight, I avenge me for my friend." 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 235 

And Gareth crying prickM against the cry ; 
But when they closed — in a moment — at one touch 
Of that skiird spear, the wonder of the world — 
Went sliding down so easily, and fell, 
That when he found the grass within his hands 
He laugh'd ; the laughter jarr'd upon Lynette : 
Harshly she askM him, " Shamed and overthrown. 
And tumbled back into the kitchen-knave, 
Why laugh ye? that ye blew your boast in vain?" 
" Nay, noble damsel, but that I, the son 
Of old King Lot and good Queen Bellicent, 
And victor of the bridges and the ford, 
And knight of Arthur, here lie thrown by whom 
I know not, all thro' mere unhappiness — 
Device and sorcery and unhappiness — 
Out, sword ; we are thrown ! " And Lancelot an- 
swered, " Prince, 
O Gareth — thro' the mere unhappiness 
Of one who came to help thee, not to harm, 
Lancelot, and all as glad to find thee whole, 
As on the day when Arthur knighted him." 

Then Gareth, "Thou — Lancelot! — thine the hand 
That threw me? An some chance to mar the boast 
Thy brethren of thee make — which could not 

chance — 
Had sent thee down before a lesser spear. 
Shamed had I been and sad — O Lancelot — thou! " 

Whereat the maiden, petulant, " Lancelot, 
Why came ye not, when calPd? and wherefore now 



236 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Come ye, not call'd ? I gloried in my knave, 
Who being still rebuked, would answer still 
Courteous as any knight — but now, if knight. 
The marvel dies, and leaves me fooPd and trick'd, 
And only wondering wherefore play'd upon : 
And doubtful whether I and mine be scorn'd. 
Where should be truth if not in Arthur's hall. 
In Arthur's presence? Knight, knave, prince and 

fool, 
I hate thee and for ever." 

And Lancelot said, 
" Blessed be thou, Sir Gareth ! knight art thou 
To the King's best wish. O damsel, be ye wise 
To call him shamed, who is but overthrown? 
Thrown have I been, nor once, but many a time. 
Victor from vanquish'd issues at the last. 
And overthrower from being overthrown. 
With sword we have not striven ; and thy good horse 
And thou are weary ; yet not less I felt 
Thy manhood thro' that wearied lance of thine. 
Well hast thou done ; for all the stream is freed, 
And thou hast wreak'd his justice on his foes. 
And when reviled, hast answer'd graciously, 
And makest merry, when overthrown. Prince, 

Knight, 
Hail, Knight and Prince, and of our Table Round! " 

And then when turning to Lynette he told 
The tale of Gareth, petulantly she said, 
'* Ay well — ay well — for worse than being fool'd 



CARET H AND LYNETTE. 237 

Of others, is to fool one's self. A cave, 

Sir Lancelot, is hard by, with meats and drinks 

And forage for the horse, and flint for fire. 

But all about it flies a honeysuckle. 

Seek, till we find." And when they sought and found, 

Sir Gareth drank and ate, and all his life 

Past into sleep ; on whom the maiden gazed. 

^- Sound sleep be thine! sound cause to sleep hast 

thou. 
Wake lusty! Seem I not as tender to him 
As any mother? Ay, but such a one 
As all day long hath rated at her child, 
And vext his day, but blesses him asleep — 
Good lord, how sweetly smells the honeysuckle 
In the hush'd night, as if the world were one 
Of utter peace, and love, and gentleness! 
O Lancelot, Lancelot " — and she clapt her hands — 
" Full merry am I to find my goodly knave 
Is knight and noble. See now, sworn have I, 
Else yon black felon had not let me pass. 
To bring thee back to do the battle with him. 
Thus an thou goest, he will fight thee first ; 
Who doubts thee victor? so will my knight-knave 
Miss the full flower of this accomplishment." 

Said Lancelot, " Peradventure he, ye name, 
May know my shield. Let Gareth, an he will, 
Change his for mine, and take my charger, fresh, 
Not to be spurrM, loving the battle as well 
As he that rides him." " Lancelot-like," she said, 
" Courteous in this. Lord Lancelot, as in all." 



^.^8 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And Gareth, wakening fiercely clutch'd the shield; 
" Ramp ye lance-splintering lions, on whom all 

spears 
Are rotten sticks! ye seem agape to roar! 
Yea, ramp and roar at leaving of your lord ! — 
Care not, good beasts, so well I care for you. 

noble Lancelot, from my hold on these 
Streams virtue — fire — thro' one that will not 

shame 
Even the shadow of Lancelot under shield. 
Hence : let us go." 

Silent the silent field 
They traversed. Arthur^'s harp tho' summer-wan, 
In counter motion to the clouds, allured 
The glance of Gareth dreaming on his liege. 
A star shot : " Lo," said Gareth, " the foe falls! " 
An owl whoopt : " Hark the victor pealing there! " 
Suddenly she that rode upon his left 
Clung to the shield that Lancelot lent him, crying, 
" Yield, yield him this again : 'tis he must fight : 

1 curse the tongue that all thro' yesterday 
Reviled thee, and hath wrought on Lancelot now 
To lend the horse and shield : wonders ye have 

done; 
Miracles ye cannot : here is glory enow 
In having flung the three : I see thee maim'd. 
Mangled : I swear thou canst not fling the fourth." 

"And wherefore, damsel? tell me all ye know. 
Ye cannot scare me ; nor rough face, or voice. 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 239 

Brute bulk of limb, or boundless savagery 
Appal me from the quest." 

" Nay, Prince," she cried, 
" God wot, I never look'd upon the face, 
Seeing he never rides abroad by day ; 
But watch'd him have I like a phantom pass 
Chilling the night : nor have I heard the voice. 
Always he made his mouthpiece of a page 
Who came and went, and still reported him 
As closing in himself the strength of ten. 
And when his anger tare him, massacring 
Man, woman, lad and girl — yea, the soft babe ! 
Some hold that he hath swallow'd infant flesh, 
Monster! O Prince, I went for Lancelot first, 
The quest is Lancelot's : give him back the shield." 

Said Gareth laughing, " An he fight for this, 
Belike he wins it as the better man : 
Thus — and not else!" 

But Lancelot on him urged 
All the devisings of their chivalry 
Where one might meet a mightier than himself; 
How best to manage horse, lance, sword and shield, 
And so fill up the gap where force might fail 
With skill and fineness. Instant were his words. 

Then Gareth, " Here be rules. I know but one — 
To dash against mine enemy and to win. 
Yet have I watch'd thee victor in the joust. 
And seen thy way." " Heaven help thee," sigh'd 
Lynette. 



240 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then for a space, and under cloud that grew 
To thunder-gloom palling all stars, they rode 
In converse till she made her palfrey halt, 
Lifted an arm, and softly whispered, " There." 
And all the three were silent seeing, pitch'd 
Beside the Castle Perilous on flat field, 
A huge pavilion like a mountain peak 
Sunder the glooming crimson on the marge, 
Black, with black banner, and a long black tiorn 
Beside it hanging ; which Sir Gareth graspt, 
And so, before the two could hinder him. 
Sent all his heart and breath thro' all the horn. 
Echo'd the wall ; a light twinkled ; anon 
Came lights and lights, and once again he blew^ 
Whereon were hollow tramplings up and down 
And muffled voices heard, and shadows past ; 
Till high above him, circled with her maids, 
The Lady Lyonors at a window stood. 
Beautiful among lights, and waving to him 
White hands, and courtesy ; but when the Prince 
Three times had blown — after long hush — at last — 
The huge pavilion slowly yielded up. 
Thro' those black foldings, that which housed 

therein. 
High on a nightblack horse, in nightblack arms. 
With white breast-bone, and barren ribs of Death, 
And crown'd with fleshless laughter — some ten 

steps — 
In the half light — thro' the dim dawn — advanced 
The monster, and then paused, and spake no 

word. 



GARETH AND LYNETTE. 241 

But Gareth spake and all indignantly, 
" Fool, for thou hast, men say, the strength of ten. 
Canst thou not trust the limbs thy God hath given, 
But must, to make the terror of thee more. 
Trick thyself out in ghastly imageries 
Of that which Life hath done with, and the clod, 
Less dull than thou, will hide with mantling flowers 
As if for pity ? " But he spake no word ; 
Which set the horror higher : a maiden swoon'd ; 
The Lady Lyonors wrung her hands and wept, 
As doomed to be the bride of Night and Death ; 
Sir Gareth's head prickled beneath his helm ; 
And ev'n Sir Lancelot thro' his warm blood felt 
Ice strike, and all that mark'd him were aghast. 

At once Sir Lancelot's charger fiercely neigh'd — 
At once the black horse bounded forward with him. 
Then those that did not blink the terror, saw 
That Death was cast to ground, and slowly rose. 
But with one stroke Sir Gareth split the skull. 
Half fell to right and half to left and lay. 
Then with a stronger buffet he clove the helm 
As thoroughly as the skull ; and out from this 
Issued the bright face of a blooming boy 
Fresh as a flower new-born, and crying, " Knight, 
Slay me not : my three brethren bad me do it. 
To make a horror all about the house, 
And stay the world from Lady Lyonors. 
They never dream'd the passes would be past." 
Answer'd Sir Gareth graciously to one 
Not many a moon his younger, " My fair child, 



242 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

What madness made thee challenge the chief knight 
Of Arthur's hall? " " Fair Sir, they bad me do it. 
They hate the King, and Lancelot, the King's friend, 
They hoped to slay him somewhere on the stream, 
They never dream'd the passes could be past.'" 

Then sprang the happier day from underground ; 
And Lady Lyonors and her house, with dance 
And revel and song, made merry over Death, 
As being after all their foolish fears 
And horrors only proven a blooming boy. 
So large mirth lived and Gareth won the quest. 

And he that told the tale in older times 
Says that Sir Gareth wedded Lyonors, 
But he, that told it later, says Lynett€» 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 



King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap 
Left by the Holy Quest ; and as he sat 
In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors 
Were softly sundered, and thro' these a youth, 
Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields 
Past, and the sunshine came along with him. 

" Make me thy knight, because I know, Sir King, 
All that belongs to knighthood, and I love," 
Such was his cry ; for having heard the King 
Had let proclaim a tournament — the prize 
A golden circlet and a knightly sword, 
Full fain had Pelleas for his lady won 
The golden circlet, for himself the sword : 
And there were those who knew him near the King 
And promised for him : and Arthur made him knight. 

And this new knight, Sir Pelleas of the isles — 
But lately come to his inheritance, 
And lord of many a barren isle was he — 
Riding at noon, a day or twain before, 
Across the forest call'd of Dean, to find 
Caerleon and the King, had felt the sun 
243 



244 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Beat like a strong knight on his helm, and reel'd 
Almost to falling from his horse ; but saw 
Near him a mound of even-sloping side, 
Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew, 
And here and there great hollies under them. 
But for a mile all round was open space. 
And fern and heath : and slowly Pelleas drew 
To that dim day, then binding his good horse 
To a tree, cast himself down ; and as he lay 
At random looking over the brown earth 
Thro' that green-glooming twilight of the grove, 
It seemed to Pelleas that the fern without 
Burnt as a living fire of emeralds, 
So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it. 
Then o'er it crost the dimness of a cloud 
Floating, :;nd once the shadow of a bird 
Flying, and then a fawn ; and his eyes closed. 
And since he loved all maidens, but no maid 
In special, half-awake he whisper'd, ''Where? 
O where? I love thee, tho' I know thee not. 
For fair thou art and pure as Guinevere, 
And I will make thee with my spear and sword 
As famous — O my queen, my Guinevere, 
For I will be thine Arthur when we meet." 

Suddenly waken'd with a sound of talk 
And laughter at the limit of the wood. 
And glancing thro' the hoary boles, he saw, 
Strange as to some old prophet might have seem'd 
A vision hovering on a sea of fire. 
Damsels in divers colors like the cloud 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 245 

Of sunset and sunrise, and all of them 

On horses, and the horses richly trapt 

Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood ; 

And all the damsels talked confusedly, 

And one was pointing this way, and one that, 

Because the way was lost. 

And Pelleas rose. 
And loosed his horse, and led him to the light. 
There she that seem'd the chief among them said, 
" In happy time behold our pilot-star! 
Youth, we are damsels-errant, and we ride, 
Arm'd as ye see, to tilt against the knights 
There at Caerleon, but have lost our way : 
To right? to left? straight forward? back again? 
Which? tell us quickly." 

And Pelleas gazing thought, 
" Is Guinevere herself so beautiful? " 
For large her violet eyes looked, and her bloom 
A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens. 
And round her limbs, mature in womanhood, 
And slender was her hand and small her shape, 
And but for those large eyes, the haunts of scorn, 
She might have seem'd a toy to trifle with, 
And pass and care no more. But while he gazed 
The beauty of her flesh abash'd the boy. 
As tho' it were the beauty of her soul : 
For as the base man, judging of the good, 
Puts his own baseness in him by default 
Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend 



246 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

All the young beauty of his own soul to hers, 

Believing her ; and when she spake to him, 

Stammer'd, and could not make her a reply. 

For out of the waste islands had he come, 

Where saving his own sisters he had known 

Scarce any but the women of his isles, 

Rough wives, that laughM and scream'd against the 

gulls, 
Makers of nets, and living from the sea. 

Then with a slow smile turned the lady round 
And looked upon her people ; and as when 
A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn, 
The circle widens till it lip the marge. 
Spread the slow smile thro' all her company. 
Three knights were thereamong; and they toe 

smiled, 
Scorning him ; for the lady was Ettarre, 
And she was a great lady in her land. 

Again she said, " O wild and of the woods, 
Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech? 
Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face. 
Lacking a tongue ? " 

" O damsel,'' answer'd he, 
" I woke from dreams ; and coming out of gloom 
Was dazzled by the sudden light, and crave 
Pardon : but will ye to Caerleon? I 
Go likewise : shall I lead you to the King? " 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 247 

" Lead then," she said ; and thro' the woods they 
went. 
And while they rode, the meaning in his eyes, 
His tenderness of manner, and chaste awe. 
His broken utterances and bashfulness, 
Were all a burthen to her, and in her heart 
She muttered, " I have lighted on a fool, 
Raw, yet so stale ! '^ But since her mind was bent 
On hearing, after trumpet blown, her name 
And title, " Queen of Beauty," in the lists 
Cried — and beholding him so strong, she thought 
That perad venture he will fight for me. 
And win the circlet : therefore flattered him. 
Being so gracious, that he well-nigh deem'd 
His wish by hers was echo'd ; and her knights 
And all her damsels too were gracious to him. 
For she was a great lady. 

And when they reach'd 
Caerleon, ere they past to lodging, she. 
Taking his hand, '' O the strong hand," she said, 
" See ! look at mine ! but wilt thou fight for me, 
And win me this fine circlet, Pelleas, 
That I may love thee ? " 

Then his helpless heart 
Leapt, and he cried, " Ay ! wilt thou if I win ? " 
" Ay, that will I," she answered, and she laugh'd, 
And straitly nipt the hand, and flung it from her ; 
Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers. 
Till all her ladies laugh'd along with her. 



248 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

" O happy world," thought Pelleas, " all, meseems, 
Are happy ; I the happiest of them all." 
Nor slept that night for pleasure in his blood, 
And green wood-ways, and eyes among the leaves ; 
Then being on the morrow knighted, sware 
To love one only. And as he came away, 
The men who met him rounded on their heels 
And wonder'd after him, because his face 
Shone like the countenance of a priest of old 
Against the flame about a sacrifice 
Kindled by fire from heaven : so glad was he. 

Then Arthur made vast banquets, and strange 

knights 
From the four winds came in : and each one sat, 
Tho' served with choice from air, land, stream, and 

sea, 
Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes 
His neighbor's make and might : and Pelleas look'd 
Noble among the noble, for he dream'd 
His lady loved him, and he knew himself 
Loved of the King : and him his new-made knight 
Worshipt, whose lightest whisper moved him more 
Than all the ranged reasons of the world. 

Then blushM and brake the morning of the jousts, 
And this was calFd " The Tournament of Youth : " 
For Arthur, loving his young knight, withheld 
His older and his mightier from the lists, 
That Pelleas might obtain his lady's love. 
According to her promise, and remain 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 249 

Lord of the tourney. And Arthur had the jousts 
Down in the flat field by the shore of Usk 
Holden : the gilded parapets were crown'd 
With faces, and the great tower filPd with eyes 
Up to the summit, and the trumpets blew. 
There all day long Sir Pelleas kept the field 
With honor : so by that strong hand of his 
The sword and golden circlet were achieved. 

Then rang the shout his lady loved : the heat 
Of pride and glory fired her face ; her eye 
Sparkled ; she caught the circlet from his lance, 
And there before the people crown'd herself. 
So for the last time she was gracious to him. 

Then at Caerleon for a space — her look 
Bright for all others, cloudier on her knight — 
Lingered Ettarre : and seeing Pelleas droop, 
Said Guinevere, " We marvel at thee much, 

damsel, wearing this unsunny face 

To him who won thee glory ! " And she said, 
" Had ye not held your Lancelot in your bower, 
My Queen, he had not won." Whereat the Queen, 
As one whose foot is bitten by an ant, 
Glanced down upon her, turned and went her way. 

But after, when her damsels, and herself. 
And those three knights all set their faces home. 
Sir Pelleas followed. She that saw him cried, 
" Damsels — and yet I should be shamed to say it — . 

1 cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him back 



250 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Among yourselves. Would rather that we had 

Some rough old knight who knew the worldly way. 

Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride 

And jest with : take him to you, keep him off, 

And pamper him with papmeat, if ye will. 

Old milky fables of the wolf and sheep. 

Such as the wholesome mothers tell their boys. 

Nay, should ye try him with a merry one 

To find his mettle, good : and if he fly us, 

Small matter! let him." This her damsels heard, 

And mindful of her small and cruel hand, 

They, closing round him thro' the journey home, 

Acted her hest, and always from her side 

Restrain'd him with all manner of device. 

So that he could not come to speech with her. 

And when she gain'd her castle, up sprang the bridge, 

Down rang the grate of iron thro' the groove. 

And he was left alone in open field. 

" These be the ways of ladies," Pelleas thought, 
"To those who love them, trials of our faith. 
Yea, let her prove me to the uttermost. 
For loyal to the uttermost am I." 
So made his moan ; and, darkness falling, sought 
A priory not far off", there lodged, but rose 
With morning every day, and, moist or dry, 
Full-arm'd upon his charger all day long 
Sat by the walls, and no one opened to him. 

And this persistance turn'd her scorn to wrath. 
Then calling her three knights, she charged them, 
" Out'! 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 251 

And drive him from the walls." And out they 

came, 
But Pelleas overthrew them as they dash'd 
Against him one by one ; and these returned, 
But still he kept his watch beneath the wall. 

Thereon her wrath became a hate ; and once, 
A week beyond, while walking on the walls 
With her three knights, she pointed downward, 

" Look, 
He haunts me — I cannot breathe — besieges me ; 
Down! strike him! put my hate into your strokes, 
And drive him from my walls." And down they 

went. 
And Pelleas overthrew them one by one ; 
And from the tower above him cried Ettarre, 
"Bind him, and bring him in." 

He heard her voice ; 
Then let the stro-ng hand, which had overthrown 
Her minion-knights, by those he overthrew 
Be bounden straight, and so they brought him in. 

Then when he came before Ettarre, the sight 
Of her rich beauty made him at one glance 
More bondsman in his heart than in his bonds. 
Yet with good cheer he spake, " Behold me, Lady, 
A prisoner, and the vassal of thy will ; 
And if thou keep me in thy donjon here, 
Content am I so that I see thy face 
But once a day : for I have sworn my vows, 



252 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And thou hast given thy promise; and I know 

That all these pains are trials of ray faith, 

And that thyself when thou hast seen me strain'd 

And sifted to the utmost, wilt at length 

Yield me thy love and know me for thy knight." 

Then she began to rail so bitterly, 
With all her damsels, he was stricken mute ; 
But when she mock'd his vows and the great King, 
Lighted on words : " For pity of thine own self. 
Peace, Lady, peace: is he not thine and mine?" 
" Thou fool," she said, " I never heard his voice 
But longed to break away. Unbind him now, 
And thrust him out of doors ; for save he be 
Fool to the midmost marrow of his bones, 
He will return no more." And those, her three, 
Laughed, and unbound, and thrust him from the 
gate. 

And after this, a week beyond, again 
She caird them, saying, " There he watches yet, 
There like a dog before his master's door! 
Kicked, he returns : do ye not hate him, ye? 
Ye know yourselves : how can ye bide at peace, 
Affronted with his fulsome innocence ? 
Are ye but creatures of the board and bed, 
No men to strike? Fall on him all at once, 
And if ye slay him I reck not : if ye fail. 
Give ye the slave mine order to be bound. 
Bind him as heretofore, and bring him in : 
It may be ye shall slay him in his bonds." 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 253 

She spake; and at her will they couch'd their 
spears, 
Three against one : and Gawain passing by, 
Bound upon solitary adventure, saw 
Low down beneath the shadow of those towers 
A villainy, three to one : and thro' his heart 
The fire of honor and all noble deeds 
Flash'd, and he call'd, "I strike upon thy side — 
The caitiffs! " " Nay," said Pelleas, ''but forbear, 
He needs no aid who doth his lady's will." 

So Gawain, looking at the villainy done, 
Forbore, but in his heat and eagerness 
Trembled and quiver'd, as the dog, withheld 
A moment from the vermin that he sees 
Before him, shivers, ere he springs and kills. 

And Pelleas overthrew them, one to three ; 
And they rose up, and bound, and brought him in. 
Then first her anger, leaving Pelleas, burn'd 
Full on her knights in many an evil name 
Of craven, weakling, and thrice-beaten hound : 
" Yet, take him, ye that scarce are fit to touch. 
Far less to bind, your victor, and thrust him out, 
And let who will release him from his bonds. 
And if he comes again" — there she brake short; 
And Pelleas answer'd, " Lady, for indeed 
1 loved you and I deem'd you beautiful, 
I cannot brook to see your beauty marr'd 
Thro' evil spite : and if ye love me not, 
I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn : 



254 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

I had liefer ye were worthy of my love, 
Than to be loved again of you — farewell ; 
And tho' ye kill my hope, not yet my love, 
Vex not yourself: ye will not see me more." 

While thus he spake, she gazed upon the man 
Of princely bearing, tho' in bonds, and thought, 
" Why have I push'd him from me ? this man lovies, 
If love there be: yet him I loved not. Why? 
I deem'd him fool? yea, so? or that in him 
A something — was it nobler than myself? — 
Seem'd my reproach? He is not of my kind. 
He could not love me, did he know me well. 
Nay, let him go — and quickly." And her knights 
Laugh'd not, but thrust him bounden out of door. 

Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed him from his 
bonds. 
And flung them o'er the walls ; and afterward, 
Shaking his hands, as from a lazar's rag, 
" Faith of my body,'' he said, " and art thou not — 
Yea thou art he, whom late our Arthur made 
Knight of his table ; yea and he that won 
The circlet? wherefore hast thou so defamed 
Thy brotherhood in me and all the rest. 
As let these caitiffs on thee work their will? " 

And Pelleas answer'd, " O, their wills are hers 
For whom I won the circlet ; and mine, hers. 
Thus to be bounden, so to see her face, 
Marr'd tho' it be with spite and mockery now, 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 25S 

Other than when I found her in the woods ; 
And tho' she hath me bounden but in spite, 
And all to flout me, when they bring me in, 
Let me be bounden, I shall see her face ; 
Else must I die thro' mine unhappiness." 

And Gawain answer'd kindly tho' in scorn, 
'^ Why, let my lady bind me if she will, 
A'nd let my lady beat me if she will : 
But an she send her delegate to thrall 
These fighting hands of mine — Christ kill me then 
But I will slice him handless by the wrist, 
And let my lady sear the stump for him. 
Howl as he may. But hold me for your friend : 
Come, ye know nothing : here I pledge my trothj 
Yea, by the honor of the Table Round, 
I will be leal to thee and work thy work, 
And tame thy jailing princess to thine hand. 
Lend me thine horse and arms, and I will say 
That I have slain thee. She will let me in 
To hear the manner of thy fight and fall ; 
Then, when I come within her counsels, then 
From prime to vespers will I chant thy praise 
As prowest knight and truest lover, more 
Than any have sung thee living, till she long 
To have thee back in lusty life again. 
Not to be bound, save by white bonds and warm, 
Dearer than freedom. Wherefore now thy horse 
And armor: let me go : be comforted : 
Give me three days to melt her fancy, and hope 
The third night hence will bring thee news of gold." 



256 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then Pelleas lent his horse and all his arms, 
Saving the goodly, sword, his prize, and took 
Gawain's, and said, "Betray me not, but help — 
Art thou not he whom men call light-of-love?" 

"Ay," said Gawain, " for women be so light." 
Then bounded forward to the castle walls, 
And raised a bugle hanging from his neck, 
And winded it, and that so musically 
That all the old echoes hidden in the wall 
Rang out like hollow woods at huntingtide. 

Up ran a score of damsels to the tower ; 
"Avaunt," they cried, " our lady loves tkee not." 
But Gawain lifting up his visor said, 
" Gawain am I, Gawain of Arthur's court, 
And I have slain this Pelleas whom ye hate : 
Behold his horse and armor. Open gate, 
And I will make you merry." 

And down they ran, 
Her damsels, crying to their lady, " Lo ! 
Pelleas is dead — he told us — he that hath 
His horse and armor: will ye let him in? 
He slew him! Gawain, Gawain of the court, 
Sir Gawain — there he waits below the wall. 
Blowing his bugle as who should say him nay." 

And so, leave given, straight on thro' open do©i 
Rode Gawain, whom she greeted courteously, 
" Dead, is it so ? " she ask'd. " Ay, ay," said he, 
"And oft in dying cried upon your name." 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 257 

" Pity on him," she answer'd, " a good knight, 
But never let me bide one hour at peace." 
" Ay," thought Gawain, "and ye be fair enow: 
But I to your dead man have given my troth, 
That whom ye loathe him will I make you love." 

So those three days, aimless about the land, 
Lost in a doubt, Pelleas wandering 
Waited, until the third night brought a moon 
With promise of large light on woods and ways. 

The night was hot : he could not rest, but rode 
Ere midnight to her walls, and bound his horse 
Hard by the gates. Wide open were the gates, 
And no watch kept ; and in thro' these he past, 
And heard but his own steps, and his own heart 
Beating, for nothing moved but his own self. 
And his own shadow. Then he crost the court^ 
And saw the postern portal also wide 
Yawning ; and up a slope of garden, all 
Of roses white and red, and wild ones mixt 
And overgrowing them, went on, and found, 
Here too, all hush'd below the mellow moon, 
Save that one rivulet from a tiny cave 
Came lightening downward, and so spilt itself 
Among the roses, and was lost again. 

Then was he ware that white pavilions rose, 
Three from the bushes, gilden-peakt : in one. 
Red after revel, droned her lurdane knights 
Slumbering, and their three squires across their feet; 



258 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

In one, their malice on the placid lip 
Froz'n by sweet sleep, four of her damsels lay; 
And in the third, the circlet of the jousts 
Bound on her brow, were Gawain and Ettarre. 

Back, as a hand that pushes thro"* the leaf 
To find a nest and feels a snake, he drew : 
Back, as a coward slinks from what he fears 
To cope with, or a traitor proven, or hound 
Beaten, did Pelleas in an utter shame 
Creep with his shadow thro' the court again, 
Fingering at his sword-handle until he stood 
There on the castle-bridge once more, and thought 
" I will go back, and slay them where they lie." 

And so went back and seeing them yet in sleep 
Said, "Ye, that so dishallow the holy sleep, 
Your sleep is death," and drew the sword, and 

thought, 
"What! slay a sleeping knight? the King hath 

bound 
And sworn me to this brotherhood ; " again, 
" Alas that ever a knight should be so false." 
Then turned and so returned, and groaning laid 
The naked sword athwart their naked throats. 
There left it, and them sleeping ; and she lay. 
The circlet of the tourney round her brows. 
And the sword of the tourney across her throat. 

And forth he past, and mounting on his horse 
Stared at her towers that, larger than themselves 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 259 

In their own darkness, throng'd into the moon. 
Then crushM the saddle with his thighs, and 

clenchM 
His hands, and madden'd with himself and moan'd : 

" Would they have risen against me in their blood 
At the last day ? I might have answered them 
Even before high God. O towers so strong, 
Huge, solid, would that even while I gaze 
The crack of earthquake shivering to your base 
Split you, and Hell burst up your harlot roofs 
Bellowing, and charred you thro' and thro' within, 
Black as the harlot's heart — hollow as a skull ! 
Let the fierce east scream thro' your eyelet-holes 
And whirl the dust of harlots round and round 
In dung and nettles! hiss, snake — I saw him 

there — 
Let the fox bark, let the wDlf yell. Who yells 
Here in the still sweet summer night, but I — 
I, the poor Pelleas whom she calPd her fool? 
Fool, beast — he, she, or I ? myself most fool ; 
Beast too, as lacking human wit — disgraced, 
Dishonor'd all for trial of true love — 
Love ? — we be all alike : only the King 
Hath made us fools and liars. O noble vows! 

great and sane and simple race of brutes 
That own no lust because they have no law ! 
For why should I have loved her to my shame? 

1 loathe her, as I loved her to my shame. 
I never loved her, I but lusted for her — 
Away — " 



260 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

He dashM the rowel into his horse, 
And bounded forth and vanished thro' the night. 

Then she, that felt the cold touch on her throat, 
Awaking knew the sword, and turn'd herself 
To Gawain : " Liar, for thou hast not slain 
This Pelleas! here he stood and might have slain 
Me and thyself." And he that tells the tale 
Says that her ever-veering fancy turn'd 
To Pelleas, as the one true knight on earth, 
And only lover ; and thro' her love her life 
Wasted and pined, desiring him in vain. 

But he by wild and way, for half the night, 
And over hard and soft, striking the sod 
From out the soft, the spark from off the hard. 
Rode till the star above the wakening sun. 
Beside that tower where Percivale was cowPd, 
Glanced from the rosy forehead of the dawn. 
For so the words were flashed into his heart 
He knew not whence or wherefore : " O sweet star, 
Pure on the virgin forehead of the dawn." 
And there he would have wept, but felt his eyes 
Harder and drier than a fountain bed 
In summer : thither came the village girls 
And linger'd talking, and they come no more 
Till the sweet heavens have filPd it from the heights 
Again with living waters in the change 
Of seasons : hard his eyes ; harder his heart 
Seem'd ; but so weary were his limbs, that he, 
Gasping, " Of Arthur's hall am I, but here. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 261 

Here let me rest and die," cast himself down, 
And gulfd his griefs in inmost sleep ; so lay, 
Till shaken by a dream, that Gawain fired 
The hall of Merlin, and the morning star 
Reel'd in the smoke, brake into flame, and fell. 

He woke, and being ware of some one nigh. 
Sent hands upon him, as to tear him, crying 
"False! and I held thee pure as Guinevere." 

But Percivale stood near him and replied, 
" Am I but false as Guinevere is pure ? 
Or art thou mazed with dreams? or being one 
Of our free-spoken Table hast not heard 
That Lancelot" — there he check'd himself and 
paused. 

Then fared it with Sir Pelleas as with one 
Who gets a wound in battle, and the sword 
That made it plunges through the wound again, 
And pricks it deeper : and he shrank and wail'd, 
"Is the Queen false?" and Percivale was mute. 
" Have any of our Round Table held their vows? " 
And Percivale made answer not a word. 
" Is the King true ? " " The King! " said Percivale. 
"Why then let men couple at once with wolves. 
What! art thou mad?" 

But Pelleas, leaping up, 
Ran thro' the doors and vaulted on his horse 
And fled : small pity upon his horse had he, 
Or on himself, or any, and when he met 



262 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

A cripple, one that held a hand for alms — 
Hunch'd as he was, and like an old dwarf-elm 
That turns its back on the salt blast, the boy 
Paused not but overrode him, shouting " False, 
And false with Gawain! '■• and so left him bruised 
And batter'd, and fled on, and hill and wood 
Went ever streaming by him till the gloom, 
That follows on the turning of the world, 
Darkened the common path : he twitch'd the reins, 
And made his beast that better knew it, swerve 
Now off it and now on ; but when he saw 
High up in heaven the hall that Merlin built, 
Blackening against the dead-green stripes of even, 
" Black nest of rats," he groanM, '' ye build too 
high." 

Not long thereafter from the city gates 
Issued Sir Lancelot riding airily. 
Warm with a gracious parting from the Queen, 
Peace at his heart, and gazing at a star 
And marvelling what it was : on whom the boy. 
Across the silent seeded meadow-grass 
Borne, clash'd : and Lancelot, saying, " What name 

hast thou 
That ridest here so blindly and so hard?" 
" I have no name," he shouted, "a scourge am I 
To lash the treasons of the Table Round." 
" Yea, but thy name ? " "I have many names," he 

cried : 
" I am wrath and shame and hate and evil fame, 
And like a poisonous wind I pass to blast 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 263 

And blaze the crime of Lancelot and the Queen." 
'• First over me," said Lancelot, '• shalt thou pass." 
•• Fight therefore," yelPd the other, and either knight 
Drew back a space, and when they closed, at once 
The weary steed of Pelleas floundering flung 
His rider, who called out from the dark field, 
•• Thou art false as Hell : slay me : I have no 

sword." 
Then Lancelot, " Yea, between thy lips — and sharp ; 
But here will I disedge it by thy death." 
'• Slay then," he shriek'd, " my will is to be slain." 
And Lancelot, with his heel upon the falPn, 
Rolling his eyes, a moment stood, then spake : 
" Rise, weakling ; I am Lancelot ; say thy say." 

And Lancelot slowly rode his war-horse back 
To Camelot, and Sir Pelleas in brief while 
Caught his unbroken limbs from the dark field, 
And followed to the city. It chanced that both 
Brake into hall together, worn and pale. 
There with her knights and dames was Guinevere. 
Full wanderingly she gazed on Lancelot 
So soon returned, and then on Pelleas, him 
Who had not greeted her, but cast himself 
Down on a bench, hard-breathing. " Have ye 

fought ? " 
She ask'd of Lancelot. "Ay, my Queen," he said. 
" And thou hast overthrown him ? " '' Ay, my 

Queen." 
Then she, turning to Pelleas, " O young knight. 
Hath the great heart of knighthood in thee fail'd 



264 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

So far thou canst not bide, unfrowardly, 

A fall from him?" Then, for he answered not, 

" Or hast thou other griefs? If I, the Queen, 

May help them, loose thy tongue, and let me know." 

But Pelleas lifted up an eye so fierce 

She quaiPd ; and he, hissing, " I have no sword," 

Sprang from the door into the dark. The Queen 

Look'd hard upon her lover, he on her ; 

And each foresaw the dolorous day to be : 

And all talk died, as in a grove all song 

Beneath the shadow of some bird of prey ; 

Then a long silence came upon the hall. 

And Modred thought, " The time is hard at hand." 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT 



Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his moo<!l 
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Rounds 
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods, 
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall. 
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand, 
And from the crown thereof a carcanet 
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize 
Of Tristram in the jousts oi yesterday. 
Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Su 
Fool?" 

For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once 
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock 
Heard a child waiL A stump of oak half-dead, 
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes 
Clutched at the crag, and started thro' mid air 
Bearing an eagle's nest : and thro' the tree 
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind 
Pierced ever a child's cry : and crag and tree 
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest, 
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck, 
And all unscarrxl from beak or talon, brought 
A maiden babe ; which Arthur pitving took, 
265 



266 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Then gave it to his Queen to rear : the Queen 
But coldly acquiescing, in lier white arms 
Received, and after loved it tenderly, 
And named it Nestling ; so forgot herself 
A moment, and her cares ; till that young life 
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold 
Past from her ; and in time the carcanet 
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child : 
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said, 
" Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence, 
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize.'" 

Peace to thine eagle-borne 
honor after death, 
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, T muse 
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone 
'Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn, 
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear." 

"Would rather ye had let them fail,"" she cried, 
*^ Plunge and be lost — ill-fated as they were, 
A bitterness to me! — ye look amazed, 
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given — 
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out 
Above the river — that unhappy child 
Past in her barge : but rosier luck will go 
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came 
Not from the skeleton of a brother -slayer, 
But the sweet body of a maiden babe. 
Perchance — who knows ? — the purest of thy knights 
May win them for the jrarest of my maids.'" 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 267 

She ended, and the cry of a great joust 
With trumpet-blowings ran on all the ways 
From Camelot in among the faded fields 
To furthest towers ; and everywhere the knights 
Arm'd for a day of glory before the King. 

But on the hither side of that loud morn 
Into the hall stagger'd, his visage ribb'd 
From ear to ear with dogwhip-weals, his nose 
Bridge-broken, one eye out, and one hand ofF^ 
And one with shatter'd fingers dangling lame, 
A churl, to whom indignantly the King, 

" My churl, for whom Christ died, what evil beast 
Hath drawn his claws athwart thy face ? or fiend ? 
Man was it who marr'd heaven's image in thee thus ? " 

Then, sputtering thro' the hedge of splintered teeth, 
Yet strangers to the tongue, and with blunt stump 
Pitch-blacken'd sawing the air, said the maim'd churl, 

" He took them and he drave them to his tower — 
Some hold he was a table-knight of thine — 
A hundred goodly ones — the Red Knight, he — 
Lord, I was tending swine, and the Red Knight 
Brake in upon me and drave them to his tower ; 
And when I call'd upon thy name as one 
That doest right by gentle and by churl, 
Maim'd me and mauPd, and would outright have 

slain, 
Save that he sware me to a message, saying, 
* Tell thou the King and all his liars, that I 



268 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Have founded my Round Table in the North, 

And whatsoever his own knights have sworn 

My knights have sworn the counter to it — and say 

My tower is full of harlots, like his court, 

But mine are worthier, seeing they profess 

To be none other than themselves — and say 

My knights are all adulterers like his own, 

But mine are truer, seeing they profess 

To be none other ; and say his hour is come, 

The heathen are upon him, his long lance 

Broken, and his Excalibur a straw.'" 

Then Arthur turn'd to Kay, the seneschal, 
*'Take thou my churl, and tend him curiously 
Like a king's heir, till all his hurts be whole. 
The heathen — but that ever-climbing wave, 
Hurl'd back again so often in empty foam. 
Hath lain for years at rest — and renegades, 
Thieves, bandits, leavings of confusion, whom 
The wholesome realm is purged of otherwhere, — 
Friends, thro' your manhood and your fealty, — now 
Make their last bead like Satan in the North. 
My younger knights, new-made, in whom your flower 
Waits to be solid fruit of golden deeds. 
Move with me toward their quelling, which achieved. 
The loneliest ways are safe from shore to shore. 
But thou. Sir Lancelot, sitting in my place 
Enchair'd to-morrow, arbitrate the field ; 
For wherefore shouldst thou care to mingle with it, 
Only to yield my Queen her own again? 
Speak, Lancelot, thou art silent : is it well ? " 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 269 

Thereto Sir Lancelot answer'd, "It is well: 
Yet better if the King abide, and leave 
The leading of his younger knights to me. 
Else, for the King has wilPd it, it is well." 

Then Arthur rose and Lancelot followed him, 
And while they stood without the doors, the King 
Turned to him saying, " Is it then so well? 
Or mine the blame that oft I seem as he 
Of whom was written, ' A sound is in his ears ' — 
The foot that loiters, bidden go, — the glance 
That only seems half-loyal to command, — 
A manner somewhat falPn from reverence — 
Or have I dream'd the bearing of our knights 
Tells of a manhood ever less and lower? 
Or whence the fear lest this my realm, uprear'd, 
By noble deeds at one with noble vows. 
From flat confusion and brute violences. 
Reel back into the beast, and be no more ? '' 

He spoke, and taking all his younger knights, 
Down the slope city rode, and sharply turn'd 
North by the gate. In her high bower the Queen, 
Working a tapestry, lifted up her head, 
Watch'd her lord pass, and knew not that she sigh'd. 
Then ran across her memory the strange rhyme 
Of bygone Merlin, "Where is he who knows? 
From the great deep to the great deep he goes." 

But when the morning of a tournament, 
By these in earnest those in mockery calPd 



270 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

The Tournament of the Dead Innocence, 
Brake with a wet wind blowing, Lancelot, 
Round whose sick head all night, like birds of prey. 
The words of Arthur flying shriek'd, arose. 
And down a streetway hung with folds of pure 
White samite, and by fountains running wine, 
Where children sat in white with cups of gold, 
Moved to the lists, and there, with slow sad steps 
Ascending, filPd his double-dragon'd chair. 

He glanced and saw the stately galleries. 
Dame, damsel, each thro' worship of their Queen 
White-robed in honor of the stainless child, 
And some with scatter^ jewels, like a bank 
Of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire. 
He look'd but once, and veiPd his eyes again. 

The sudden trumpet sounded as in a dream 
To ears but half-awaked, then one low roll 
Of Autumn thunder, and the jousts began : 
And ever the wind blew, and yellowing leaf 
And gloom and gleam, and shower and shorn plume 
Went down it. Sighing weariedly, as one 
Who sits and gazes on a faded fire, 
When all the goodlier guests are past away. 
Sat their great umpire, looking o''er the lists. 
He saw the laws that ruled the tournament 
Broken, but spake not ; once, a knight cast down 
Before his throne of arbitration cursed 
The dead babe and the follies of the King ; 
And once the laces of a helmet crack'd, 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. Ill 



Modred, a narrow face : anon he heard 

The voice that billovv'd round the barriers roar 

An ocean-sounding welcome to one knight, 

But newly-enterd, taller than the rest, 

And armor'd all in forest green, whereon 

There tript a hundred tiny silver deer, 

And wearing but a holly-spray for crest, 

With ever-scattering berries, and on shield 

A spear, a harp, a bugle — Tristram — late 

From overseas in Brittany return^. 

And marriage with a princess of that realm, 

Isolt the White — Sir Tristram of the Woods — 

Whom Lancelot knew, had held sometime with pain 

His own against him, and now yearn'd to shake 

The burthen off his heart in one full shock 

With Tristram ev'n to death : his strong hands gript 

And dinted the gilt dragons right and left, 

Until he groan'd for wrath — so many of those, 

That ware their ladies' colors on the casque, 

Drew from before Sir Tristram to the bounds. 

And there with gibes and flickering mockeries 

Stood, while he mutter'd, '• Craven crests! O shame! 

What faith have these in whom they sware to love? 

The glory of our Round Table is no more." 

So Tristram won, and Lancelot gave, the gems. 
Not speaking other word than " Hast thou won ? 
Art thou the purest, brother? See, the hand 
Wherewith thou takest this, is red ! '' to whom 
Tristram, half plagued by Lancelot's languorous 
mood. 



272 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Made answer, " Ay, but wherefore toss me this 

Like a dry bone cast to some hungry hound ? 

Let be thy fair Queen's fantasy. Strength of heart 

And might of limb, but mainly use and skill, 

Are winners in this pastime of our King. 

My hand — belike the lance hath dript upon it — 

No blood of mine, I trow ; but O chief knight, 

Right arm of Arthur in the battlefield. 

Great brother, thou nor I have made the world ; 

Be happy in thy fair Queen as I in mine." 

And Tristram round the gallery made his horse 
Caracole, then bow'd his homage, bluntly saying, 
" Fair damsels, each to him who worships each 
Sole Queen of Beauty and of love, behold 
This day my Queen of Beauty is not here." 
And most of these were mute, some anger'd, one 
Murmuring, " All courtesy is dead," and one^ 
'•'• The glory of our Round Table is no more. ' 

Then fell thick rain, plume droopt and mantle 
clung. 
And pettish cries awoke, and the wan day 
Went glooming down in wet and weariness : 
But under her black brows a swarthy dame 
Laugh'd shrilly, crying, " Praise the patient saints. 
Our one white day of Innocence hath past, 
Tho' somewhat draggled at the skirt. So be it. 
The snowdrop only, flowering thro' the year, 
Would make the world as blank as winter-tide. 
Come — let us gladden their sad eyes, our Queen's 



THE LAST TOURiyAMENr. ■ 273 

And Lancelot's, at this night's solemnity 
With all the kindher colors of the field/' 

So dame and damsel glitter'd at the feast 
Variously gay : for he that tells the tale 
Likened them, saying, as when an hour of cold 
Falls on the mountain in midsummer snows, 
And all the purple slopes of mountain flowers 
Pass under white, till the warm hour returns 
With veer of wind, and all are flowers again ; 
So dame and damsel cast the simple white, 
And glowing in all colors, the live grass, 
Rose-campion, bluebell, kingcup, poppy, glance 
About the revels, and with mirth so loud 
Beyond all use, that, half-amazed, the Queen, 
And wroth at Tristram and the lawless jousts, 
Brake up their sports, then slowly to her bower 
Parted, and in her bosom pain was lord. 

And little Dagonet on the morrow morn, 
High over all the yellowing Autumn-tide, 
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall. 
Then Tristram saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?'' 
WheelM round on either heel, Dagonet replied, 
« Belike for lack of wiser company ; 
Or being fool, and seeing too much wit 
Makes the world rotten, why, belike I skip 
To know myself the wisest knight of all." 
"Ay, fool," said Tristram, "but His eating dry 
To dance without a catch, a roundelay 
To dance to." Then he twangled on his harp, 



274 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And while he twangled little Dagonet stood, 

Quiet as any water-sodden log 

Stayed in the wandering warble of a brook ; 

But when the twangling ended, skipt again ; 

Then being askM, "Why skipt ye not, Sir Fool?" 

Made answer, " I had liefer twenty years 

Skip to the broken music of my brains 

Than any broken music ye can make." 

Then Tristram, waiting for the quip to come, 

^'Good now, what music have I broken, fool?" 

And little Dagonet, skipping, " Arthur, the King's ; 

For when thou playest that air with Queen Isolt, 

Thou makest broken music with thy bride, 

Her daintier namesake down in Brittany — 

And so thou breakest Arthur's music too." 

" Save for that broken music in thy brains, 

Sir Fool," said Tristram, " I would break thy head. 

Fool, I came late, the heathen wars were o'er, 

The life had flown, we sware but by the shell — 

I am but a fool to reason with a fool — 

Come, thou art crabb'd and sour : but lean me down, 

Sir Dagonet, one of thy long asses' ears. 

And hearken if my music be not true. 

*' '■ Free love — free field — we love but while we 
may : 
The woods are hush'd, their music is no more: 
The leaf is dead, the yearning past away : 
New leaf, new life — the days of frost are o'er : 
New life, new love, to suit the newer day : 
New loves are sweet as those that went before : 
Free love — free field — we love but while we may.' 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 275 

"Ye might have moved slow-measure to my tune, 
Not stood stockstill. I made it in the woods, 
And heard it ring as true as tested gold." 

But Dagonet with one foot poised in his hand, 
'■'■ Friend, did ye mark that fountain yesterday 
Made to run wine ? — but this had run itself 
All out like a long life to a sour end — 
And them that round it sat with golden cups 
To hand the wine to whosoever came — 
The twelve small damosels white as Innocence, 
In honor of poor Innocence the babe, 
Who left the gems which Innocence the Queen 
Lent to the King, and Innocence the King 
Gave for a prize — and one of those white slips 
Handed her cup and piped, the pretty one, 
^ Drink, drink. Sir Fool,' and thereupon I drank, 
Spat — pish — the cup was gold, the draught was 
mud." 

And Tristram, " Was it muddier than thy gibes? 
Is all the laughter gone dead out of thee? — 
Not marking how the knighthood mock thee, fool — 
' Fear God : honor the king— his one true knight — 
Sole follower of the vows ' — for here be they 
Who knew thee swine enow before I came. 
Smuttier than blasted grain : but when the King 
Had made thee fool, thy vanity so shot up 
It frighted all free fool from out thy heart ; 
Which left thee less than fool, and less than swine, 
A naked aught — yet swine I hold thee still. 
For I have flung thee pearls and find thee swine." 



276 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And little Dagonet mincing with his feet, 
^ Knight, an ye fling those rubies round my neck 
In lieu of hers, Til hold thou hast some touch 
Of music, since I care not for thy pearls. 
Swine ? I have wallow'd, I have washed — the world 
Is flesh and shadow — I have had my day. 
The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind 
Hath fouPd me — an I wallow'd, then I wash'd — 
I have had my day and my philosophies — 
And thank the Lord I am King Arthur's fool. 
Swine, say ye ? swine, goats, asses, rams and geese 
Troop'd round a Paynim harper once, who thrumm'd 
On such a wire as musically as thou 
Some such fine song — but never a king's fool." 

And Tristram, " Then were swine, goats, asses, 
geese. 
The wiser fools, seeing thy Paynim bard 
Had such a mastery of his mystery 
That he could harp his wife up out of hell." 

Then Dagonet, turning on the ball of his foot, 
" And whither harp'st thou thine? down! and thyself 
Down! and two more : a helpful harper thou. 
That harpest downward! Dost thou know the star 
We call the harp of Arthur up in heaven ? " 

And Tristram, " Ay, Sir Fool, for when our King 
Was victor wellnigh day by day, the knights, 
Glorying in each new glory, set his name 
High on all hills, and in the signs of heaven." 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 277 

And Dagonet answer'd, " Ay, and when the land 
Was freed, and the Queen false, ye set yourself 
To babble about him, all to show your wit — 
And whether he were king by courtesy, 
Or king by right — and so went harping down 
The black king's highway, got so far, and grew 
So witty that ye play'd at ducks and drakes 
With Arthur's vows on the great lake of fire. 
Tuwhoo! do ye see it? do ye see the star?" 

" Nay, fool," said Tristram, "• not in open day.'* 
And Dagonet, '■'• Nay, nor will : I see it and hear. 
It makes a silent music up in heaven, 
And I, and Arthur and the angels hear. 
And then we skip." " Lo, fool," he said, "ye talk 
Fool's treason : is the King thy brother fool ? " 
Then little Dagonet clapt his hands and shrill'd, 
" Ay, ay, my brother fool, the king of fools! 
Conceits himself as God that he can make 
P^igs out of thistles, silk from bristles, milk 
From burning spurge, honey from hornet-combs, 
And men from beasts — Long live the king of 
fools!" 

And down the city Dagonet danced away. 
But thro' the slowly-mellowing avenues 
And solitary passes of the wood 
Rode Tristram toward Lyonesse and the west. 
Before him fled the face of Queen Isolt 
With ruby-circled neck, but evermore 
Past, as a rustle or twitter i.i the wood 



278 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Made dull his inner, keen his outer eye 

For all that walk'd, or crept, or perch'd, or flew. 

Anon the face, as, when a gust hath blown, 

Unruffling waters re-collect the shape 

Of one that in them sees himself, returned ; 

But at the slot or fewmets of a deer. 

Or ev'n a fall'n feather, vanished again. 

So on for all that day from lawn to lawn 
Thro' many a league-long bower he rode. At length 
A lodge of intertwisted beechen-boughs 
Furze-crammM, and bracken-rooft, the which himself 
Built for a summer day with Queen Isolt 
Against a shower, dark in the golden grove 
Appearing, sent his fancy back to where 
She lived a moon in that low lodge with him : 
Till Mark her lord had past, the Cornish king, 
With six or seven, when Tristram was away. 
And snatch'd her thence ; yet dreading worse than 

shame 
Her warrior Tristram, spake not any word, 
But bode his hour, devising wretchedness. 

And now that desert lodge to Tristram lookt 
So sweet, that halting, in he past, and sank 
Down on drift of foliage random-blown ; 
But could not rest for musing how to smooth 
And sleek his marriage over to the Queen. 
Perchance in lone Tintagil far from all 
The tonguesters of the court she had not heard. 
But then what folly had sent him overseas 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 279 

After she left him lonely here ? a name ? 

Was it the name of one in Brittany, 

Isolt, the daughter of the King? " Isolt 

Of the white hands " they calPd her : the sweet 

name 
Allured him first, and then the maid herself, 
Who served him well with those white hands of 

hers, 
And loved him well, until himself had thought 
He loved her also, wedded easily, 
But left her all as easily, and returned. 
The black-blue Irish hair and Irish eyes 
Had drawn him home — what marvel? then he laid 
His brows upon the drifted leaf and dream'd. 

He seem'd to pace the strand of Brittany 
Between Isolt of Britain and his bride, 
And show'd them both the ruby-chain, and both 
Began to struggle for it, till his Queen 
Graspt it so hard, that all her hand was red. 
Then cried the Breton, ''Look, her hand is red I 
These be no rubies, this is frozen blood. 
And melts within her hand — her hand is hot 
With ill desires, but this I gave thee, look, 
Is all as cool and white as any flower.'" 
Followed a rush of eagle's wings, and then 
A whimpering of the spirit of the child, 
Because the twain had spoiPd her carcanet. 

He dream'd ; but Arthur with a hundred spears 
Rode far, till o'er the illimitable reed, 



280 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And many a glancing plash and sallowy isle, 

The wide-wing'd sunset of the misty marsh 

Glared on a huge machicolated tower 

That stood with open doors, whereout was roll'd 

A roar of riot, as from men secure 

Arr?d their marshes, ruffians at their ease 

Among their harlot-brides, an evil song. 

^' Lo there," said one of Arthur's youth, for there, 

High on a grim dead tree before the tower, 

A goodly brother of the Table Round 

Swung by the neck : and on the boughs a shield 

Showing a shower of blood in a field noir, 

And there beside a horn, inflamed the knights 

At that dishonor done the gilded spur. 

Till each would clash the shield, and blow the horn. 

But Arthur waved them back. Alone he rode. 

Then at the dry harsh roar of the great horn. 

That sent the face of all the marsh aloft 

An ever upward-rushing storm and cloud 

Of shriek and plume, the Red Knight heard, and 

all, 
Even to tipmost lance and topmost helm. 
In blood-red armor sallying, howPd to the King, 

'■•' The teeth of Hell flay bare and gnash thee flat! 
Lo! art thou not that eunuch-hearted King 
Who fain had dipt free manhood from the world — 
The woman-worshipper ? Yea, God's curse, and I ! 
Slain was the brother of my paramour 
By a knight of thine, and I that heard her whine 
And snivel, being eunuch-hearted too. 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 281 

Sware by the scorpion-worm that twists in hell, 

And stings itself to everlasting death, 

To hang whatever knight of thine I fought 

And tumbled. Art thou King ? — Look to thy life ! " 

He ended : Arthur knew the voice ; the face 
Wellnigh was helmed-hidden, and the name 
Went wandering somewhere darkling in his mind. 
And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword, 
But let the drunkard, as he stretched from horse 
To strike him, overbalancing his bulk, 
Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp 
Fall, as the crest of some slow-arching wave, 
Heard in dead night along that table-shore. 
Drops flat, and after the great waters break 
Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves. 
Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud, 
From less and less to nothing ; thus he fell 
Head-heavy, while the knights, who watchM him, 

roared 
And shouted and leapt down upon the falPn ; 
There trampled out his face from being known. 
And sank his head in mire, and slimed themselves : 
Nor heard the King for their own cries, but sprang 
Thro' open doors, and swording right and left 
Men, women, on their sodden faces, hurPd 
The tables over and the wines, and slew 
Till all the rafters rang with woman-yells. 
And all the pavement streamed with massacre : 
Then, yell with yell echoing, they fired the tower, 
Which half that autumn night, like the live North, 



282 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Red-pulsing up tliro' Alioth and Alcor, 

Made all above it, and a hundred meres 

About it, as the water Moab saw 

Come round by the East, and out beyond them 

flushVl 
The long low dune, and lazy-plunging sea. 

So all the ways were safe from shore to shore, 
But in the heart of Arthur pain was lord. 

Then, out of Tristram waking, the red dream 
Fled with a shout, and that low lodge return'd. 
Mid-forest, and the wind among the boughs. 
He wliistled his good warhorse left to graze 
Among the forest greens, vaulted upon him, 
And rode beneath an ever-showering leaf. 
Till one lone woman, weeping near a cross, 
Stay'd him. "Why weep ye?" '' Lord," she said, 

" my man 
Hath left me or is dead ; "" whereon he thought — 
"What, an she hate me now? I would not this. 
What, an she love me still? I would not that. 
I know not what I would " — but said to her, 
" Yet weep not thou, lest, if thy mate return, 
He find thy favor changed and love thee not" — 
Then pressing day by day thro^ Lyonesse 
Last in a rocky hollow, belling, heard 
The hounds of Mark, and felt the goodly hounds 
Yelp at his heart, but turning, past and gained 
Tintagil, half in sea, and high on land, 
A crown of towei's. 



THE LAS. TOURNAMENT. 283 

Down in a casement sat, 
A low sea-sunset glorying round her hair 
And glossy-throated grace, Isolt the Queen. 
And when she heard the feet of Tristram grind 
The spiring stone that scaled about her tower, 
Flush'd, started, met him at the doors, and there 
Belted his body with her white embrace 
Crying aloud, " Not Mark — not Mark, my soul! 
The footstep fluttered me at first : not he : 
Catlike thro' his own castle steals my Mark, 
liut warrior-wise thou stridest thro' his halls 
Who hates thee, as I him — ev'n to the death. 
My soul, I felt my hatred for my Mark 
Quicken within me, and knew that thou wert nigh." 
To whom Sir Tristram smiling, " I am here. 
Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine." 

And drawing somewhat backward she replied, 
" Can he be wrong'd who is not ev'n his own, 
But save for dread of thee had beaten me, 
Scratch'd, bitten, blinded, marr'd me somehow — 

Mark? 
What rights are his that dare not strike for them? 
N(jt lift a hand — not, tho' he found me thus! 
But hearken! have ye met him? hence he went 
To-day for three days' hunting — as he said — 
And so returns belike within an hour. 
Mark's way, my soul! — but eat not thou with Mark, 
Because he hates thee even more than fears ; 
Nor drink : and when thou passest any wood 
Close vizor, lest an arrow from the bush 



284 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Should leave me all alone with Mark and hell. 
My God, the measure of my hate for Mark, 
Is as the measure of my love for thee."" 

So, pluckM one way by hate and one by love, 
Drained of her force, again she sat, and spake 
To Tristram, as he knelt before her, saying, 
" O hunter, and O blower of the horn. 
Harper, and thou hast been a rover too, 
For, ere I mated with my shambling king. 
Ye twain had fallen out about the bride 
Of one — his name is out of me — the prize, 
If prize she were — (what marvel — she could 

see) — 
Thine, friend ; and ever since my craven seeks 
To wreck thee villainously : but, O Sir Knight, 
What dame or damsel have ye kneeFd to last?" 

And Tristram, " Last to my Queen Paramount, 
Here now to my Queen Paramount of love 
And loveliness — ay, lovelier than when first 
Her light feet fell on our rough Lyonesse, 
Sailing from Ireland." 

Softly laugh'd Isolt, 
" Flatter me not, for hath not our great Queen 
My dole of beauty trebled?" and he said, 
" Her beauty is her beauty, and thine thine. 
And thine is more to me — soft, gracious, kind — 
Save when thy Mark is kindled on thy lips 
Most gracious ; but she, haughty, ev'n to him, 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT, 285 

Lancelot ; for I have seen him wan enow 
To make one doubt if ever the great Queen 
Have yielded him her love." 

To whom Isolt, 
" Ah, then, false hunter and false harper, thou 
Who breakest thro" the scruple of my bond, 
Calling me thy white hind, and saying to me 
That Guinevere had sinned against the highest, 
And I — misyoked with such a want of man — 
That I could hardly sin against the lowest." 

He answered, "O my soul, be comforted! 
If this be sweet, to sin in leading-strings, 
If here be comfort, and if ours be sin, 
Crown'd warrant had we for the crowning sin 
That made us happy: but how ye greet me — fear 
And fault and doubt — no word of that fond tale — 
Thy deep heart-yearnings, thy sweet memories 
Of Tristram in that year he was away." 

And, saddening on the sudden, spake Isolt, 
" I had forgotten all in my strong joy 
To see thee — yearnings? — ay! for, hour by hour. 
Here in the never-ended afternoon, 
O sweeter than all memories of thee. 
Deeper than any yearnings after thee, 
SeemM those far-rolling, westward-smiling seas, 
Watch'd from this tower. Isolt of Britain dash'd 
Before Isolt of Brittany on the strand. 
Would that have chiird her bride-kiss? Wedded 
her? 



286 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Fought in her father^s battles ? wounded there ? 
The King was all fulfiird with gratefulness, 
And she, my namesake of the hands, that heal'd 
Thy hurt and heart with unguent and caress — 
Well — can I wish her any huger wrong 
Than having known thee? her too hast thou left 
To pine and waste in those sweet memories. 
O were I not my Mark's, by whom all men 
Are noble, I should hate thee more than love." 

And Tristram, fondling her light hands, replied, 
^- Grace, Queen, for being loved : she loved me well 
Did I love her? the name at least I loved. 
Isolt? — I fought his battles, for Isolt! 
The night was dark; the true star set. Isolt I 
The name was ruler of the dark — Isolt? 
Care not for her! patient, and prayerful, meek. 
Pale-blooded, she will yield herself to God." 

And Isolt answered, " Yea, and why not I ? 
Mine is the larger need, who am not meek. 
Pale-blooded, prayerful. Let me tell thee now. 
Here one black, mute midsummer night I sat. 
Lonely, but musing on thee, wondering where, 
Murmuring a light song I had heard thee sing, 
And once or twice I spake thy name aloud. 
Then flash'd a levin-brand ; and near me stood, 
In fuming sulphur blue and green, a fiend — 
Mark's way to steal behind one in the dark — 
•For there was Mark : 'He has wedded her,^ he said, 
Not said, but hiss'd it : then this crown of towers 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 287 

So shook to such a roar of all the sky, 
That here in utter dark I swoon'd away, 
And woke again in utter dark, and cried, 
' I will flee hence and give myself to God ' — 
And thou wert lying in thy new leman's arms." 

Then Tristram, ever dallying with her hand, 
" May God be with thee, sweet, when old and gray, 
And past desire ! " a saying that anger'd her. 
" ' May God be with thee, sweet, when thou art old, 
And sweet no more to me! ' I need Him now. 
For when had Lancelot utter'd aught so gross 
Ev'n to the swineherd's malkin in the mast? 
The greater man, the greater courtesy. 
But thou, thro' ever harrying thy wild beasts — 
Save that to touch a harp, tilt with a lance 
Becomes thee well — art grown wild beast thyself. 
How darest thou, if lover, push me even 
In fancy from thy side, and set me far 
In the gray distance, half a life away, 
Her to be loved no more? Unsay it, unswear! 
Flatter me rather, seeing me so weak. 
Broken with Mark and hate and soHtude, 
Thy marriage and mine own, that I should suck 
Lies like sweet wines : lie to me : I believe. 
Will ye not lie? not swear, as there ye kneel, 
And solemnly as when ye sware to him. 
The man of men, our King — My God, the power 
Was once in vows when men believed the King! 
They lied not then, who sware, and thro' their vows 
The King prevailing made his realm : — I say, 



288 IDYLS OP THE KING. 

Swear to me thou wilt love me ev'n when old, 
Gray-hairM, and past desire, and in despair." 

Then Tristram, pacing moodily up and down, 
^' Vows! did ye keep the vow ye made to Mark 
More than I mine ? Lied, say ye ? Nay, but learnt, 
The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself — 
My knighthood taught me this — ay, being snapt — 
We run more counter to the soul thereof 
Than had we never sworn. I swear no more. 
I swore to the great King, and am forsworn. 
For once — ev'n to the height — I honored him. 
' Man, is he man at all ? ' methought, when first 
I rode from our rough Lyonesse, and beheld 
That victor of the Pagan throned in hall — 
His hair, a sun that ray 'd from off a brow 
Like hillsnow high in heaven, the steel-blue eyes. 
The golden beard that clothed his lips with light — 
Moreover, that weird legend of his birth. 
With Medina's mystic babble about his end 
Amazed me ; then, his foot was on a stool 
Shaped as a dragon ; he seem'd to me no man. 
But Michael trampling Satan ; so I sware, 
Being amazed : but this went by — The vows! 
O ay — the wholesome madness of an hour — 
They served their use, their time ; for every knight 
Believed himself a greater than himself. 
And every follower eyed him as a God ; 
Till he, being lifted up beyond himself, 
Did mightier deeds than elsewise he had done. 
And so the realm was made ; but then their vows-- 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 289 

First mainly thro' that sullying of our Queen — 
Began to gall the knighthood, asking whence 
Had Arthur right to bind them to himself? 
Dropt down from heaven ? wash'd up from out the 

deep? 
They faiPd to trace him thro' the flesh and blood 
Of our old Kings : whence then ? a doubtful lord 
To bind them by inviolable vows, 
Which flesh and blood perforce would violate : 
For feel this arm of mine — the tide within 
Red with free chase and heather-scented air 
Pulsing full man ; can Arthur make me purt 
As any maiden child ? lock up my tongue 
From uttering freely what I freely hear? 
Bind me to one? The wide world laughs at it. 
And worldling of the world am I, and know 
The ptarmigan that whitens ere his hour 
Wooes his own end ; we are not angels here 
Nor shall be : vows — I am woodman of the woods, 
And hear the garnet-heaaed yafifingale 
Mock them : my soul, we love but while we may ; 
And therefore is my love so large for thee, 
Seeing it is not bounded save by love." 

Here ending, he moved toward her, and she said, 
"^ Good : an I turn'd away my love for thee 
To some one thrice as courteous as thyself — 
For courtesy wins woman all as well 
As valor may, but he that closes both 
Is perfect, he is Lancelot — taller indeed. 
Rosier, and comelier. thou — but say I loved 



290 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

This knightliest of all knights, and cast thee back 
Thine own small saw, '■ We love but while we may,' 
Well then, what answer?" 

He that while she spake, 
Mindful of what he brought to adorn her with, 
The jewels, had let one finger lightly touch 
The warm white apple of her throat, replied, 
" Press this a little closer, sweet, until — 
Come, I am hungered and half-angerM — meat, 
Wine, wine — and I will love thee to the death, 
And out beyond into the dream to come." 

So then, when both were brought to full accord, 
She rose, and set before him all he wiird ; 
And after these had comforted the blood 
With meats and wines, and satiated their hearts — 
Now talking of their woodland paradise. 
The deer, the dews, the fern, the founts, the lawns ; 
Now mocking at the much ungainliness, 
And craven shifts, and long crane legs of Mark — 
Then Tristram laughing caught the harp, and sang : 

"Ay, ay, O ay — the winds that bend the brier! 
A star in heaven, a star within the mere ! 
Ay, ay, O ay — a star was my desire. 
And one was far apart, and one was near : 
Ay, ay, O ay — the winds that bow the grass! 
And one was water and one star was fire, 
And one will ever shine and one will pass. 
Ay, ay, O ay — the winds that move the mere." 



THE LAST TOURNAMENT. 291 

Then in the light's last glimmer Tristram show'd 
And swung the ruby carcanet. She cried, 
" The collar of some Order, which our King 
Hath newly founded, all for thee, my soul, 
For thee, to yield thee grace beyond thy peers." 

'^ Not so, my Queen," he said, " but the red fruit 
Grown on a magic oak-tree in mid-heaven. 
And won by Tristram as a tourney-prize, 
And hither brought by Tristram for his last 
Love-qffering and peace-offering unto thee."' 

He rose, he turn'd, then, flinging round her neck, 
Claspt it, and cried, " Thine Order, O my Queen ! " 
But, while he bow'd to kiss the jewelPd throat. 
Out of the dark, just as the lips had touched. 
Behind him rose a shadow and a shriek — 
" Mark's way," said Mark, and clove him thro' the 
brain. 

That night came Arthur home, and while he 
climb'd, 
All in a death-dumb autumn-dripping gloom. 
The stairway to the hall, and look'd and saw 
The great Queen's bower was dark, — about his feet 
A voice clung sobbing till he question'd it, 
*' What art thou ? " and the voice about his feet 
Sent up an answer, sobbing, " I am thy fool, 
And I shall never make thee smile again." 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 



That story which the bold Sir Bedivere, 
First made and latest left of all the knights, 
Told, when the man was no more than a voice 
In the white winter of his age, to those 
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds. 

Before that last weird battle in the west 
There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain kilPd 
In Lancelot's war, the ghost of Gawain blown 
Along a wandering wind, and past his ear 
Went shrilling, " Hollow, hollow all delight! 
Hail, king! to-morrow thou shalt pass away. 
Farewell! there is an isle of rest for thee. 
And I am blown along a wandering wind, 
And hollow, hollow, hollow all dehght.'' 
And fainter onward, like wild birds that change 
Their season in the night and wail their way 
From cloud to cloud, down the long wind the dream 
Shriird ; but in going mingled with dim cries 
Far in the moonlit haze among the hills. 
As of some lonely city sack'd by night, 
When all is lost, and wife and child with wail 
Pass to new lords ; and Arthur woke and calPd, 
292 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 293 

"Who spake? A dream. O light upon the wind. 
Thine, Gawain, was the voice — are these dim cries 
Thine ? or doth all that haunts the waste and wild 
Mourn, knowing it will go along with me?" 

This heard the bold Sir Bedivere and spake : 
" O me, my king, let pass whatever will, 
Elves, and the harmless glamour of the field ; 
But in their stead thy name and glory cling 
To all high places like a golden cloud 
Forever: but as yet thou shall not pass. 
Light was Gawain in life, and light in death 
Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man ; 
And care not thou for dreams from him, but rise — - 
I hear the steps of Modred in the west. 
And with him many of thy people and knights 
Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grow 
Than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee. 
Right well in heart they know thee for the king. 
Arise, go forth and conquer as of old." 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
" Far other is this battle in the west 
Whereto we move, than when we strove in youth, 
And thrust the heathen from the Roman wall. 
And shook him thro' the north. Ill doom is mine 
To war against my people and my knights. 
The king who fights his people fights himself. 
And they my knights, who loved me once, the stroke 
That strikes them dead is as my death to me. 
Yet let us hence, and find or feel a way 



294 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Thro' this bUnd haze, which ever since I saw 
One lying in the dust at Almesbury, 
Hath foldeth in the passes of the world." 

Then rose the king and moved his host by night 
And ever pushed Sir Modred, league by league, 
Back to the sunset bound of Lyonesse — 
A land of old upheaven from the abyss 
By fire, to sink into the abyss again ; 
Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt, 
And the long mountains ended in a coast 
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away 
The phantom circle of a moaning sea. 
There the pursuer could pursue no more, 
And he that fled no further fly the King ; 
And there, that day when the great light of heaven 
Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling year. 
On the waste sand by the waste sea they closed. 
Nor ever yet had Arthur fought a fight 
Like this last, dim, weird battle of the west. 
A deathwhite mist slept over sand and sea : 
Whereof the chill, to him who breathed it, drew 
Down with his blood, till all his heart was cold 
With formless fear ; and ev'n on Arthur fell 
Confusion, since he saw not whom he fought. 
For friend and foe were shadows in the mist. 
And friend slew friend not knowing whom he slew; 
And some had visions out of golden youth. 
And some beheld the faces of old ghosts 
Look in upon the battle ; and in the mist 
Was many a noble deed, many a base, 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 295 

And chance and craft and strength in single fights, 

And ever and anon wth host to host 

Shocks, and the splintering spear, the hard mail 

hewn, 
Shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, the crash 
Of battleaxes on shatter'd helms, and shrieks 
After the Christ, of those who falling down 
Looked up for heaven, and only saw the mist ; 
And shouts of heathen and the traitor knights, 
Oaths, insult, filth, and monstrous blasphemies, 
Sweat, writhing, anguish, laboring of the lungs 
In that close mist, and crying for the light, 
Moans of the dying, and voices of the dead. 

Last, as by some one deathbed after wail 
Of suifering, silence follows, or thro' death 
Or deathlike swoon, thus over all that shore. 
Save for some whisper of the seething seas, 
A dead hush fell ; but when the dolorous day 
Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came 
A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew 
The mist aside, and with that wind the tide 
Rose, and the pale king glanced across the field 
Of battle : but no man was moving there ; 
Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, 
Nor yet of heathen ; only the wan wave 
Brake in among dead faces, to and fro 
Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down 
Tumbling the hollow helmets, of the fallen. 
And shivered brands that once had fought with 
Rome, 



296 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And rolling far along the gloomy shores 
The voice of days of old and days to be. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere, 
And whiter than the mist that all day long 
Had held the field of battle was the King : 

'' Hearest thou this great voice that shakes the 
world, 
And wastes the narrow realm whereon we move, 
And beats upon the faces of the dead. 
My dead, as tho' they had not died for me? — 
O Bedivere, for on my heart hath falPn 
Confusion, till I know not what I am. 
Nor whence I am, nor whether I be King. 
Behold, I seem but King among the dead." 

Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere : " My King, 
King everywhere! and so the dead have kings, 
There also will I worship thee as King. 
Yet still thy life is whole, and still I live 
Who love thee; but who hates thee, he that 

brought 
The heathen back among us, yonder stands, 
Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine house." 

Then spake the King : " My house hath been my 
doom. 
But call not thou this traitor of my house 
Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me. 
My house are rather they who sware my vows, 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 191 

Yea, even while they brake them, own'd vne King. 
And well for thee ; saying in my dark hour, 
When all the purport of my throne hath faiPd, 
That quick or dead thou holdest me for King. 
King am I, whatsoever be their cry ; 
And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see 
Yet, ere I pass." And uttering this the King 
Made at the man : then Modred smote his liege 
Hard on that helm which many a heathen sword 
Had beaten thin ; while Arthur at one blow, 
Striking the last stroke with Excalibur, 
Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell. 

So all day long the noise of battle roll'd 
Among the mountains by the winter sea ; 
Until King Arthur''s Table, man by man. 
Had fall'n in Lyonesse about their lord, 
King Arthur. Then, because his wound was deep, 
The bold Sif Bedivere uplifted him. 
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, 
A broken chancel with a broken cross. 
That stood on a dark strait of barren land : 
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one 
Lay a great water, and the moon was full. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
" The sequel of to-day unsolders all 
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights 
Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep 
They <jleep — the men I loved. I think that we 
S'lall never more, at any future time, 



298 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, 

Walking about the gardens and tlie halls 

Of Camelot, as in the days that were. 

I perish by this people which I made, — 

Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again 

To rule once more : but let what will be, be. 

•I am too deeply smitten thro' the helm 

That without help I cannot last till morn. 

Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, 

Which was my pride : for thou rememberest hovr 

In those old days, one summer noon, an arm 

Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, 

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 

Holding the sword — and how I row'd across 

And took it, and have worn it, like a king ; 

And, wheresoever I am sung or told 

In aftertime, this also shall be known : 

But now delay not : take Excalibur, 

And fling him far into the middle mere : 

Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word." 

To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere : 
" It is not meet. Sir King, to leave thee thus, 
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm — 
A little thing may harm a wounded man ; 
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full. 
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word." 

So saying, from the niiu'd shrine he stept. 
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, 
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, 




Guinevere. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 299 

Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang 
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping 

down 
By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock, 
Came on the shining levels of the lake. 

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, 
And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, 
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth 
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt : 
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, 
Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work 
Of subtlest jewelry. He gazed so long 
That both his eyes were dazzled as he stood, 
This way and that dividing the swift mind. 
In act to throw : but at the last it seem'd 
Better to leave Excalibur conceaPd 
There in the many-knotted waterflags. 
That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. 
So strode he back slow to the wounded King. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
" Hast thou performed my mission which I gave? 
What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? " 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
" I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, 
And the wild water lapping on the crag." 

To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale : 
" Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name. 



300 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd 

Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight : 

For surer sign had followed, either hand, 

Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. 

This is a shameful thing for men to lie. 

Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again, 

As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 

I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word." 

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time 
Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere. 
Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought ; 
But when he saw the wonder of the hilt. 
How curiously and strangely chased, he smote 
His palms together, and he cried aloud : 

"And if indeed I cast the brand away, 
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, 
Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, 
Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. 
What good should follow this, if this were done? 
What harm, undone? Deep harm to disobey, 
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. 
Were it well to obey then, if a king demand 
An act unprofitable, against himself? 
The King is sick, and knows not what he does. 
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath 
And rumors of a doubt ? But were this kept, 
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, 
Some one might show it at a joust of arms, 
Saying, '■ King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 301 

Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. 

Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps 

Upon the hidden bases of the hills.' 

So might some old man speak in the aftertime 

To all the people, winning reverence. 

But now much honor and much fame were lost." 

So spake he, clouded with his own conceit. 
And hid Excalibur the second time, 
And so strode back slow to the wounded King. 

Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : 
" What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? " 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
'' I heard the water lapping on the crag, 



To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath : 
"Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, 
Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! 
Authority forgets a dying king. 
Laid widow'd of the power in his eye 
That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou art, 
For thou, the latest-left of all my knights 
In whom should meet the offices of all, 
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt ; 
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. 
Yet, for a man fail in duty twice, 
And the third time may prosper, get thee hence : 



302 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, 

I will arise and slay thee with my hands." 

Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, 
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged 
Among the bulrush-beds, and clutchM the sword. 
And strongly wheePd and threw it. The great 

brand 
Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon. 
And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an 

arch. 
Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, 
Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 
By night, with noises of the Northern Sea. 
So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur : 
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere. 
And lightly went the other to the King. 

Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath : 
" Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. 
Speak out : what is it thou hast heard, or seen?" 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
" Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems 
Should blind my purpose, for I never saw. 
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, 
Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men, 
So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 303 

Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him ; 
But when I look'd again, behold an arm, 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
That caught him by the hilt, and brandish^ him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere." 



And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard : 
"My end draws nigh ; 'tis time that I were gone. 
Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, 
And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear 
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die." 

So saying, from the pavement he half rose, 
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, 
And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes 
As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 
Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, 
And would have spoken, but he found not words ; 
Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee, 
O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands. 
And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. 

But, as he walk'd. King Arthur panted hard. 
Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed 
When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the King, 
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, " Quick, quick! 
I fear it is too late, and I shall die." 
But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge. 
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd, 
Larger than human on the frozen hills. 
He heard the deep behind him, and a cry 



304 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. 
Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves 
And barren chasms, and all to left and right 
The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based 
His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang 
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — 
And on a sudden, lo! the level lake. 
And the long glories of the winter moon. 

Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, 
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern. 
Beneath them ; and descending they were ware 
That all the decks were dense with stately forms, 
Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream — by these 
Three Queens with crowns of gold : and from them 

rose 
A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, 
And, as it were one voice, an agony 
Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills 
All night in a waste land, where no one comes, 
Or hath come, since the making of the world. 

Then murmured Arthur, " Place me in the barge ; " 
So to the barge they came. . There those three 

Queens 
Put forth their hands, and took the King, and 

wept. 
But she, that rose the tallest of them all 
And fairest, laid his head upon her lap. 
And loosed the shattered casque, and chafed ius 

hands, 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 305 

And caird him by his name, complaining loud, 
And dropping bitter tears against his brow 
Striped with dark blood : for all his face was white 
And colorless, and like the withered moon 
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east ; 
And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops 
Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls — 
That made his forehead like a rising sun 
High from the dais-throne — were parch'd with 

dust ; 
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, 
Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips. 
So like a shattered column lay the King ; 
Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest, 
From spur to plume a star of tournament. 
Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged 
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere : 
"Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? 
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? 
For now I see the true old times are dead. 
When every morning brought a noble chance. 
And every chance brought out a noble knight. 
Such times have been not since the light that led 
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved 
Which was an image of the mighty world ; 
And i, the last, go forth companionless, 
And the days darken round me, and the years, 
Among new men, strange faces, other minds." 



306 IDYLS OF THE KING. 

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge : 
" The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 
And God fulfils himself in many ways, 
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? 
I have lived my life, and that which I have done. 
May He within himself make pure, but thou, 
If thou shouldst never see my face again. 
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by 

prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy 

voice 
Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
For what are men better than sheep or goats 
That nourish a blind life within the brain, 
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
Both for themselves and those who call them friend "i 
For so the whole round earth is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
But now farewell. I am going a long way 
With these thou seest — if indeed I go 
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — 
To the island-valley of Avilion ; 
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns 
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, 
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." 

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 307 

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
Revolving many memories, till the hull 
Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
And on the mere the wailing died away. 

At length he groan'd, and turning slowly clomb 
The last hard footstep of that iron crag ; 
Thence mark'd the black hull moving yet, and 

cried, 
" He passes to be king among the dead, 
And after healing of his grievous wound 
He comes again ; but — if he come no more — 
O me, be yon dark Queens in yon black boat, 
Who shriek'd and waiPd, the three whereat we 

gazed 
On that high day, when, clothed with living light. 
They stood before his throne in silence, friends 
Of Arthur, who should help him at his need ? ■" 

Then from the dawn it seem'd there came, but 
faint 
As from beyond the limit of the world. 
Like the last echo born of a great cry, 
Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice 
Around a king returning from his wars. 

Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb 
E'en to the highest he could climb, and saw, 



308 IDYLS OF THE KING, 

Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand, 
Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King, 
Down that long water opening on the deep 
Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go 
From less to less and vanish into light. 
And the new sun rose bringing the new ytar. 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: May 2009 

PreservationTechnologie 

A U/nni n i camcd im rni i cmnMc DDcornuiiTi 



